Endless Love
by Crimson Coin
Summary: FIN The long awaited sequel to Unstoppable. Will Trish and Chris be able to overcome obstacles to find True love. Based on events from March 2004 - September 2004 FIN
1. March 22, 2004

Title: Endless Love  
  
Author: Crimson Coin Crimson_Coin@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points.  
  
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.  
  
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.  
  
Archiving: Ask me first.  
  
+++  
  
Detroit, MI ... March 22, 2004  
  
Edge raked the hair back from his eyes, walking purposefully down the hall of the hectic arena. He knew where he wanted to go, who he needed to confront for many much needed answers. But as he turned a corner, Edge stopped, his eyes focusing intently on the drawn form of a man.  
  
At first glance, the figure didn't even appear to be a man, only the shattered remnants of who at one time may have been human. Edge cocked his head slightly, squinting in an attempt to get a better look at the individual.  
  
The man sat on a steel chair, his head bowed, hands raked through his hair as he cradled his head. His broad shoulders hung low and shook slightly as if he were withholding tears.  
  
Feeling incredible sympathy, Edge slowly approached the man. In a way, he felt personally responsible for the current condition of this man.  
  
"Why would she do it?"  
  
Edge startled as the sorrow-laden drawl echoed in his head, though the man had only spoken softly, barely above a whisper. Yet, the man didn't move an inch, simply stayed motionless, his tears more evident now then ever.  
  
"I ... I didn't want to believe it, but it's really true. God, it's true."  
  
Edge closed his eyes a moment, stabilizing his own emotions in the presence of such a delicately conditioned man. "Jeff."  
  
Jeff Hardy sniffed, raising his tear filled eyes, his hands shaking now that they weren't needed as a support any longer. "What happened? I ... I don't understand."  
  
"I don't either." Edge answered in true honesty. With a sigh, he shook his head, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "I really don't. I ... I thought ... God, I don't know what I thought."  
  
"I thought I knew her." Jeff said, lowly. "I ... I expected Chris to do something funny or hurt her and I was waiting and ready to just hop on a plane and give him a piece of my fist and mind the minute she or Lita breathed the word. But ... But Trish and ... and what she did at Wrestlemania and the weeks after and ... Did you see what she did in that ring tonight?"  
  
Edge sat next to the other man, draping his forearms on his knees, trying to relax best he could on the uncomfortable concrete floor. "Yeah, I saw it. And frankly I don't understand. You know, Jeff, I really thought I knew her. When she would cry on my shoulder about Chris ..."  
  
Jeff's eyes widened with anger. "Cried? What did he do to her?"  
  
"No no no." Edge said quickly, hoping he could alleviate the hotheaded Southerner before action was taken against the blonde Canadian. "It wasn't that Chris did anything to her. She ... she was so torn. I really thought she loved him; she just seemed so torn and destroyed and she ... I really thought she wanted him in every way."  
  
"He made her happy." Jeff said, softly. "I know he did. Just the little things. Lita would call me and say that even if they didn't say anything, if she passed him in the hall at a house show, she would just be changed. Like just the sight of him was all she needed to feel content. Have you talked to Chris?"  
  
Edge shook his head. "No, he won't talk to me. But I've seen him and that's all I need. I know how he feels and just the look in his eyes is more than enough to remind me what that felt like. God, I don't ever want to feel that way again."  
  
"I've never felt that way." Jeff said with a simple shrug. "I mean that's never happened to me. I've never been that heartbroken or even know what that would feel like to have a woman do that to me. I ... can only imagine what that feels like."  
  
"It's absolutely horrible." Edge said. "I actually don't even know if words can describe what it feels like. I mean ... I guess that they call it heartbroken cuz that's what it feels like. It actually feels like your heart has broken in half and all you want to do is just cry your eyes out and then finally when you don't think it could possibly hurt anymore ... well let's just say that the sight of Trish sucking face with Christian is doing absolutely nothing to help him."  
  
"You ... you've felt that way before?"  
  
"I sure have." Edge answered. "And the sight of the woman you love kissing another man just rips your guts out. Especially the way that Trish ..." he sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know man. I mean what Trish did was just out right slutty. Turning on Chris like that then letting Christian shove his tongue down her throat ... right in front of Chris. God, that was so fucking wrong."  
  
Jeff nodded. "Yeah, I know." Licking his lips, he cocked his head. "Where were you headed? Before you stopped here with me."  
  
Edge smiled lightly. "Oh no where."  
  
Jeff just eyed his one time friend. "You were going to find Trish weren't you."  
  
Chuckling, Edge shook his head, standing and placing a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "No, man. Trish is a grown woman. I'm not going to get involved in her life unless she comes to me."  
  
Jeff nodded. "Ok, man. I'll ... I'll see you later."  
  
Edge smiled, walking away from the youngest Hardy. But once out of view, determination engrained itself into his features. He felt bad lying to the boy, but it was the only way. Knowing exactly where he was going, only a few more locker rooms down the hall and he burst through the door.  
  
The woman inside the room started, but Edge didn't care. His eyes cold and angered, he clenched his fists to keep from resorting to violence. "What in the holy FUCK are you two thinking?"  
  
Trish Stratus gasped, shocked at the outburst and she tried desperately to wipe her eyes, keeping herself proud and erect. That easy smile slipped onto her face, her brow cocked with arrogance.  
  
"Don't give me that." Edge snarled. "What the fuck are you trying to do? What's going on in that head of yours? Where ..." he glanced around the room. "Where's that bastard you've been sucking tongue with?"  
  
Christian stepped out of the shower area, a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping off of his short hair and slicked body. "What the hell do you want?"  
  
"Answers."  
  
"This has nothing to do with you." Christian growled. "Absolutely nothing. This doesn't concern you so butt the hell out."  
  
"Oh this does concern me." Edge said, his voice laden with seriousness and intensity. "This concerns me when not two weeks ago she was crying in my arms because she claimed to love him and not know what to do. Or when I drove her ... how many hours was it ... to see him. It was for Chris, I know it was for Chris because Christian was down in the bar when you were up in Chris's room."  
  
Trish stood, turning her back on Edge to hide the tears that brimmed in her eyes. Christian moved quickly, taking her in his arms and hugging her against his chest, letting her hide against him.  
  
Edge laughed. "Awww, what did I hurt your feelings? Did I say something you didn't want to hear? Tough. Have you seen Chris? I mean really really looked. Does that bother you in anyway or do you simply not care? I'm talking to you, Trish. I said ... have you seen Chris since you two have decided to do this ... this ..." Growling his aggression, Edge stalked towards the two. "I'm talking to you, Stratus." He grabbed Trish's shoulder roughly spinning the woman.  
  
Trish jostled away from Christian keeping her head down, but only for a moment. Swallowing her pride, she looked up, not caring of the tear streaks or the utter destruction that shone so obvious on her face and in her eyes.  
  
Edge's features instantly softened, his eyes wide and surprised, shocked at the sudden emotions he could read so clearly on her face. "Oh God, no. Please no."  
  
The tears peaking out the corner of her eyes, Trish turned her eyes away and up to a vacant corner of the ceiling. "Leave, Edge. Just leave."  
  
Edge didn't obey, but instead walked closer to Trish. "Trish," he ducked down, tilting her chin up to look in her eyes. "Trish, please just look me in the eye."  
  
She shook her head, looking away, averting her eyes away from Edge's penetrating gaze.  
  
"Trish ..." he breathed. "Please."  
  
The pleading in his voice pulled at her heart and she couldn't deny him, despite Christian's warning glare. Trish looked in his eyes.  
  
"Oh God," Edge sighed, wrapping his arms right around the blonde woman, pulling his friend right into his chest in the tightest hug he could manage. "God, honey, what happened?"  
  
Shuddering slightly, Trish curled into him, hiding in his chest, cuddling into him as if simply his touch brought protection and solace. 


	2. March 29, 2004

Title: Endless Love  
  
Author: Crimson Coin Crimson_Coin@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points.  
  
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.  
  
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.  
  
Archiving: Ask me first.  
  
+++  
  
RAW, March 29, 2004  
  
Trish pushed away from Christian, knowing the cameras had shut off and she charged down the hall and into his dressing room. She heard him calling after her, but she didn't want to hear it. Bursting through the door, the tears fell from her eyes, sleeking down her cheeks, her body shaking with the impending sobs she desperately held inside.  
  
His face was burnt into the back of her mind. His jesting eyes, the slight coldness in his stare, the amusement and almost pleasure he received as he belittled her with such cruel words. Granted, she'd said some cruel words to him but there was no truth in them. Hell, anyone could see that in her eyes, even out there.  
  
But she did it. She swallowed every nerve, every doubt and walked out there to demean and damage the man she loved, all because she loved him. The sexual connotations and innuendos he spat at her churned every tear inside. But she couldn't show that. She had to play the part and so she did.  
  
The names, his words circled through her mind and just when she thought she had no more tears to shed, more tears came, poured from her reddened eyes. Trish couldn't stop the tears.  
  
+++  
  
Chris Jericho smiled as he walked down the corridor of the arena, back to his locker room. A cell phone to his ear, he laughed. "Yeah, I did what you told me. And I feel good."  
  
The Rock laughed. "Told yah, you'd feel good. And wasn't I right. Helping to set your heart at ease."  
  
"You were right," Jericho conceded with a sigh. "Would you like to hear it again?"  
  
"Yes, please."  
  
Chuckling, Jericho shook his head. "You were right, Rock. If she still loved me then when I started saying those things, she wouldn't have been angry. You were right. She was angry and then everything with Christian backstage. You were right."  
  
"That's right." Rock said. "I thought I knew Trish, she just didn't seem like one to do this. But now, I believe it. I hate to say this, Chris, but she really looks the part."  
  
Jericho pushed into his locker room, the smile no longer on his face. "I ... I know."  
  
"Hey, hey hey." Rock said quickly. "Don't get down on yourself. You need to believe that everything you said is true. I mean, it would have to be. She admitted to your face that she's sleeping with Christian."  
  
"But she was right." Chris said, softly. "About the real man thing. That a real man would've hobbled down that ramp to make sure that no one laid a finger on her."  
  
"And if I recall correctly, wasn't it Jeff and Steiner restraining you at home the minute you saw everything. Granted you were far away and that's not your fault. It's not your fault you got hurt. And if Jeff and Steiner hadn't have been there you probably would have driven all the way to her and beaten the ever loving hell out of Christian."  
  
"Yeah." He sighed. "But you wanna know the truth?"  
  
"What's that?"  
  
Chris shook his head, sitting down on the couch, his head tilted back onto the cushions as he lounged lazily. "When I saw what she did backstage, running to Christian's arms like that ... it hurt."  
  
"It's gonna hurt." Rocky said, comfortingly. "But, it's probably for the best. She's got Christian now. She doesn't need you."  
  
Those words hurt Chris, brought pangs to his already shattered heart. "Yeah, you're right. Look, I'm uh ... I'm gonna sit on those words for a while and just try to compose myself."  
  
"Alright, man." Rock said. "Just remember, you gotta be strong. She doesn't need you now. And you don't need her."  
  
"Ok," Chris answered, doing his best to keep his voice from shaking. "Thanks, man. I'll talk to you later."  
  
"Bye."  
  
Chris clicked the cell phone shut, tossing it onto the seat cushion beside him. With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes, relaxing into the couch. Rock was right. Trish didn't need him. She had Christian and she didn't need him anymore. Maybe if he would have listened to her. When she said she didn't need a knight and that she wasn't made of glass and could handle herself in the ring and didn't need to be babied.  
  
Maybe if he'd have just done what he wanted to do from the start. Way back when, when he lay on the couch in his locker room, his knee elevated and she came to see him. Or in the hospital room a week later. He should have stopped dilly-dallying and just took her in his arms and kissed her. He shouldn't have been afraid to show her that. Friend be shitted, he didn't want to be her friend. And he should've just shown that. Should have just kissed her so passionately, she wouldn't know what to do.  
  
She would have had no choice but to kiss him back. Like that time in December, when he'd practically attacked her in a fevered pitch of passion, pinning her against the lockers and ravaging her. Despite the words they'd exchanged that evening, despite their fight in that locker room, she didn't deny his kiss. Her hands, her mouth was just as eager.  
  
So she broke away. That was fine. But he should have been persistent. And then when she was talking to him again, he should have let her know where he truly stood.  
  
Chris clenched his teeth, slamming a fist onto the couch. Damn him. Christian, that slimy son of a bitch. Going to Trish like that and feeding her lies, coaxing her into believing that he wasn't a real man.  
  
Shaking his head, Chris pushed off the couch. He just had to get away. Tossing his belongings into his duffel bag, he hoisted up the bag and walked down the hall. A briskness to his step, Chris turned some corners then slowed, his brow furrowed at the voice he recognized. That voice echoing down the hall. He couldn't hear her words, but he heard tears.  
  
Turning one more corner, his eyes widened. Lita stood in the hall, Christian and Trish in front of her and the redhead was near tears. Trish stood tall, unwavering at Lita's assault.  
  
Lita clenched her teeth, pointing an angry finger at the blonde woman. "And you ... you ..." she expelled a breath, her hand dropping to her side. "When I left this company because of that injury, I left and there were no problems. You and I were friends. I was still dating Matt, Jeff was by my side, Edge was a sweetheart."  
  
Lita quickly wiped her eyes, her shoulders shaking with emotion. "And then I come back and Jeff is gone. Edge is gone. Matt leaves me, makes a fool outta me and just leaves me after so many years. And now you go and do something like this." Shaking her head, she pointed at Chris. "And of all the people I have left, it's him. HIM! Chris fucking Jericho. When I left ... he was an asshole!"  
  
Chris blinked, controlling his emotions at the reminder of what he was and of everything he'd done.  
  
Lita shook her head, frenzied with emotion. "I don't understand. I ... you left for ..." Licking her lips, she didn't even bother to wipe the new tears that poured from her eyes. "Do you know why I never wanted to talk about Christian, Trish?"  
  
Trish kept her head high, neither instigating nor ignoring.  
  
Lita expelled a shaky breath. "On all those occasions and you would ask me about Christian and I'd always brush it off as if nothing was wrong. Do you really know why I did that?" She pointed at the man she spoke of. "It was because I was still attracted to him!"  
  
All eyes widened at that statement, Christian's breath catching in his throat and Trish had to hold in her gasp.  
  
But Lita didn't notice, simply continued. "Yeah, Trish. That's why. I couldn't get him out of my head and I hated myself because of what he is. He's no better than Matt. And ... and you leave the man you claimed to love and ... and me for ... for him!"  
  
Chris raced to Lita's side, wrapping his arms around the redhead as she collapsed with the emotions. "Easy, sweetie." He cooed, supporting her affectionately. "They're not worth it." Forcing the tears to stay back, he looked to Trish. "They're not worth it."  
  
Leading her away quickly, he didn't even turn back to look at them. The sight of Christian holding Trish sickened him and he knew that they both needed to leave as quickly as possible.  
  
Chris held open the car door for her, quickly hopping into the driver's seat. Lita still wasn't responsive, her head downcast, and eyes averted. Chris didn't ask, simply drove out of the garage and down the street.  
  
The silence lingered hauntingly as he finally pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. Helping her up the stairs and to her room, he opened the door for her. Still she didn't react to him and with a sigh, he walked into her room, easing the door closed.  
  
Lita dropped her bag to the floor, walking to the window and drawing the shades, pulling them open and staring out into the blackness. With a depressed sigh, Chris walked up behind her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.  
  
Lita bowed her head, her shoulders shaking slightly as the tears finally slipped down her cheeks. She reached up, burying her face in her hands.  
  
"Shhhh," Chris hushed, turning her and pulling her into his arms. "Shhh, sweetie." He cooed, hugging her tight and rubbing her back, trying to comfort his hurting friend and ignoring how much he was hurting.  
  
She mumbled some inaudible syllables into his throat, tightening her arms around his neck.  
  
"What was that sweetie?" He asked, softly.  
  
Sniffling, Lita ducked slightly, her forehead pressed to his neck. "Why me, Chris? What ... what's wrong with me?"  
  
"Nothing, sweetie." Chris answered, deeply, his voice soothing. "There's nothing wrong with you. Christian and Trish played us for fools and there is nothing wrong with you. You hear me? Nothing."  
  
Lita didn't respond for a few moments then slowly nodded. "There's nothing wrong with you either, Chris." She pushed back, looking up at him.  
  
Chris closed his eyes, a tear slipping out the corner and Lita reached up, cupping his cheek and brushing away the drop. He let out a shaky sigh, his heart aching to almost unbearable levels. He thought he was dying.  
  
"Chris?" Lita swallowed hard. "Chris, do you care about me?"  
  
"You know I do, Red." Chris whispered. "I'm a changed man. Tr ... Trish changed me. I ... I want to apologize, for putting you in the walls all those years ago."  
  
A soft smile tugged at Lita's lips. "All is forgiven."  
  
Chris smiled too, warm and comforting. "That's good. Puts my heart at ease."  
  
"Yeah," Lita breathed, her eyes locking on his for an intense moment. Leaning towards him, he leaned down just as hesitant. Their eyes focused, their position locked as the moment engulfed them.  
  
Nervously sighing, Chris closed the distance, taking Lita's lips gently with his. The kiss lasting only a few seconds, he pulled back, looking down into her hazel eyes. Lita licked her lips, and Chris did the same, the two still looking at each other, their gaze never wavering.  
  
Chris's arms wrapped around her waist, her arms around his neck as the two kissed again. This time, the kiss far deeper and more passionate.  
  
*** Two for one. There you go; here're two chapters. I know they follow RAW but to be honest, I'm not sure if the others will. But you'll just have to read to find out. Now hmmmm, I wonder exactly what Chris and Lita are doing ... hmmmm .... hmmmmm, keep checking back and I'll be sure to tell you. *** PS: Reviews make me post faster. 


	3. April 12, 2004

Title: Endless Love  
  
Author: Crimson Coin Crimson_Coin@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points.  
  
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.  
  
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.  
  
Archiving: Ask me first.  
  
+++  
  
April 12, 2004  
  
Christian sighed, glancing over his shoulder at the petite blonde. Her head was bowed and she slumped in her chair. He finished digging through his bag. "What's the matter, Sweetie?"  
  
She chocked on a laugh then only shook her head, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees, her head cocked slightly as she looked at him. "Do you really need to ask?"  
  
A simple smile spread onto his face. "No. No, I guess I don't." Zippering the bag, he turned towards her, crossing his arms and leaning back against the lockers. "Talk?"  
  
"It doesn't matter." She said. "Talking gets you no where. It's already been a month and I'm sick of talking."  
  
"Just asking."  
  
Her eyes shifted up, locking on his. "I'm sorry, Christian. I know you mean well."  
  
There were a few moments of silence and Christian nervously licked his lips. "Then ... you think maybe, I can talk?"  
  
Surprised at first, a genuine smile spread onto her face and she patted the seat of the chair next to her. "Come on. Let's have it."  
  
Grateful, he obeyed, falling back into the chair at her side and he closed his eyes a moment or two, gathering his thoughts.  
  
"Come on," Trish coaxed, grabbing his hand. "Spill."  
  
Christian turned his head, opening his eyes. "First of all, Chris was out of line today. With that footage of you and Vince McMahon and ..." he trailed off as he noticed her eyes fall blank, the hints of tears and sadness prodding to escape. He ducked his head, unable to watch. "I ... I don't mean to bring it up. But ... But I know Chris. And I know how he deals with things. And ... and for what its worth, I ... I know he's still upset."  
  
Blinking furiously a few times, Trish's eyes darted to an abandoned corner of the room. "He certainly doesn't seem upset."  
  
"Trish,"  
  
She shook her head. "No, Christian. No. Chris doesn't seem upset anymore. He tried to put me in the walls. He tried to hurt me. He wanted to hurt me. And I remember him telling me a long time ago that he would NEVER lay a hand on me. He would never. He promised ... he ... he said that I could attack him with a bat and he would never touch me. I slapped him and he tried to put me in the walls."  
  
Christian sighed.  
  
A sadistic laugh slipped from Trish's lips. "Ok, Christian? So don't try telling me that he's upset or even that he still cares. Because he doesn't. And I don't really blame him."  
  
Christian slowly nodded. "And Lita ... I don't blame her for hating me. How could she ever know? I even think I hurt her tonight. How ... I didn't mean to. I didn't think I shoved her that hard but she just kinda rolled up and ... and ..."  
  
"I'm sure she's fine." Trish said. "How do you think I feel having to have a match with her? Did you notice something different about her? She ... she wasn't quite herself. Almost like ..." Trish swallowed hard. "Like she's on something. Again."  
  
Christian's eyes widened. "You think she went back to the drugs?"  
  
"God, I hope not." Trish tightened her hold on Christian's hand. "Oh God, please no. She couldn't. She ... she wouldn't." Closing her eyes for a moment, she licked her lips. "I want to do something. I ... I just want to go and throw myself at Lita's feet and beg her forgiveness and then ... then just wrap my arms around Chris's neck and ... and plead for him to love me again. I ..."  
  
As the tears dripped from her eyes, Christian draped a protective arm over her shoulder, pulling her into him. "It's ok, sweetie. It'll be ok. We just need to be strong."  
  
"He's gonna hit me at Backlash." She sniffled. "I know it. I just know he is."  
  
"I'll kill him."  
  
But she viciously shook her head. "No, please. Christian. Don't ... don't make this any worse. Can ... can we just end this now?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Sniffling, she pushed back from him, looking sadly into his eyes. "Can you lay down for him?"  
  
Christian's eyes widened. "What? You ... what?"  
  
Her eyes darting with nerves, she nervously licked her lips, ducking her head. "I know what that sounds like but just hear me out." When he didn't respond, she warily continued. "I just want this whole thing to end and I know I can't come clean with Chris and you can't with Lita and we've dug ourselves in too deep. Chris is never going to forgive me even if I do come clean with him and frankly, I don't think my heart could take much more of the insults, whether he means them or not."  
  
Christian only cocked his head, listening intently.  
  
Trish swallowed hard, her words becoming more troublesome and harder to speak, but she knew she had to continue. "I ... I can't work with him like this and it's breaking my heart every moment I have to act this way with him. Whether it's you or me can we just let him get the win?"  
  
"But if I lay down, Bischoff will know."  
  
"You don't have to just give in." Trish answered quickly. "We can put up a fight but just make sure we don't win. Then if he gets the win, he'll be victorious and there'll be no need for this to go on," she ducked her head with a sigh. "And I can just fade into the shadows of his life. And maybe ... well maybe then my heart can heal."  
  
Sighing, Christian pulled her against him again, resting his cheek on the top of her head. "I don't know if he'll attack you on Sunday." He clenched his teeth, controlling his anger when she choked back a whimper. He knew the thought of Chris wanting to hurt her brought pain to her already shattered heart. "But ok. I'll do as you ask. We'll make it a good show but in the end, we'll give Chris the win."  
  
"Thank you, Christian." Trish whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before standing. "I'm gonna go back to the locker room, gather my things so we can leave. I just want to go to bed."  
  
Christian nodded, a sorrowed smile on his face. "Yeah, me too. I'll meet you right here in about twenty minutes? I ... I need to talk to Edge. We ... we have some issues to sort out and frankly, I ... I need a guy friend right now."  
  
Trish smiled with a nod. "Ok. I'll see you in about twenty minutes." Swallowing her nerves, she quickly stepped out of his locker room, walking briskly down the hall before slipping into the women's locker room. She was relieved when Lita wasn't inside and simply ignored the two other diva's present and walked towards her corner, situating her bag.  
  
Stacy Keibler sucked her lower lip into her mouth, eyeing Trish curiously. The woman next to her, however, did not stop speaking despite proper etiquette.  
  
Nidia chuckled, not caring in the least that Trish Stratus just walked in, despite what she was about to say to Stacy. "So did you hear about Chris?"  
  
Stacy glanced at Nidia, intrigued. "Chris? Benoit?"  
  
Nidia shook her head, bending down to tie her sneakers. "No not Benoit. Jericho."  
  
Stacy watched as Trish's head perked up. "No, I didn't hear." Stacy coaxed. "He's ok, isn't he? Last I heard he was still really upset."  
  
Nidia shrugged. "Oh I don't know if he's upset or not. I'm just going by what I heard."  
  
"What?" Stacy asked in a low voice, noting how Trish had gone back to her packing, as if this present conversation meant nothing to her. Stacy took that symbol as the truth.  
  
Nidia smiled. "He's sleeping with Lita."  
  
Stacy jumped as Trish dropped her makeup bag, the contents spilling all over the floor. Trish muttered a few curses, quickly dropping to her knees. Stacy kept her eyes on the little blonde. "Wait ... sleeping?"  
  
Nidia nodded, completely unaware. "Oh yeah. It was either last week or a couple weeks ago. One time deal from what I hear, but they've still been spending a lot of time around the other. I wouldn't be surprised if he was with her every night."  
  
Stacy couldn't look away from Trish Stratus. The other woman kept her head bowed as she picked up everything that spilled, though her hands shook with fierceness and her shoulders shuddered with restrained tension.  
  
"If you ask me," Nidia continued. "I think it's the best thing for them." With that said, she threw her duffel bag over her shoulder and walked from the room.  
  
Stacy stood, watching quietly as a tiny whimper escaped the woman before her and Trish only violently shook her head; the shakes worsened. Dropping every item she collected, Trish lifted her limp body onto the bench, ducking her head into her hands as her shoulders shook; her hair draped forward, her back to the rest of the room.  
  
Moved by the display, Stacy slowly walked towards the door, flicking the lock then carefully, step by step approached the other diva. She watched as Trish curled further into herself, ducking her head almost between her legs in an attempt to simply recoil away from this world.  
  
Empathetic towards this woman, Stacy sat on the bench next to Trish. The other blonde didn't even seem to notice her presence; Stacy sighed, placing a gentle hand on the woman's back.  
  
That touch only necessary, a whimpered cry slipped from her lips and Trish viciously shook her head. The touch ... any touch was too much. She couldn't hold on anymore.  
  
Stacy sighed, easing closer to the other woman and rubbing her back, trying to comfort the crying woman any way she could. Moving slowly, Stacy reached out, pushing down Trish's hands and cupping her cheek, forcing her to sit up and look at her.  
  
Trish didn't fight, but simply tried to withhold the tears with little success.  
  
Nearly moved to tears herself, Stacy swallowed that sadness. "Oh God, Honey." She cooed, taking Trish in her arms. The tears continued to fall as Trish hugged this estranged woman; one whom she never thought would offer comfort. But at this moment, Trish didn't care. Trish needed her.  
  
*** You liking so far? I think I'm gonna stick with what's happening on RAW cuz I have a good feeling I can make it work out within the show. Let me know what you think? You like? You hate? Want me to take it somewhere on its own? Review me, let me know.*** 


	4. April 19, 2004

Title: Endless Love  
  
Author: Crimson Coin Crimson_Coin@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points.  
  
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.  
  
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.  
  
Archiving: Ask me first.  
  
+++  
  
April 19, 2004  
  
Edge let out a huge hoot, whipping his hair back out of his eyes. "Yeah! Yeah, Baby!" He punched at the air. "Oh yeah, Baby. Yeah!" He pushed into his locker room, tossing his new belt on the bench. His new belt. His belt. Oooo, he liked the sound of that. His belt.  
  
Smiling brightly, he gathered all his belongings, throwing them into his duffel bag.  
  
"Hey, man."  
  
Edge turned, his smile broadening when he saw who stood in the doorway.  
  
Chris Jericho walked into the room, letting the door close behind him. "Congradu-fucking-lations, man. That ... that is absolutely great."  
  
"Thanks," Edge answered, a proud smile on his face. "You wouldn't believe it, how I feel, man. I mean ... I mean this is just so awesome. So ... so awesome."  
  
"I believe it." Chris said. "I know what it's like to hold a belt, especially one that you never expected to win. It's something and there's nothing like it."  
  
Edge nodded, sitting down on the bench. "Hey, man. Can ... can I ask you something?"  
  
"Sure." Chris answered, fixing his jacket. "What's on your mind?"  
  
"How can you hit her?"  
  
"Ah," Chris's face dropped, seriousness setting in. "The Monday before Backlash ... she chick kicked me and ... and it really knocked me out. When I got back to my locker room, I looked at myself in the mirror." He sighed. "She busted me open, Edge. I ... I had a cut and I was bleeding. She ... She keeps trying to hurt me, trying to break me and I will not break."  
  
Edge kept silent.  
  
"But still," Chris continued. "Even last night, I couldn't put pressure in the Walls."  
  
"But you could take her head off with a clothesline. And springboard onto her tonight. And whip her into the ring and knock her off the apron. You're trying to hurt her."  
  
"Don't judge me!" Chris yelled, pointing an accusing finger at the other man. "Don't you dare judge me because you have no idea, ok? None."  
  
Edge raised his hands defensively. "Ok. Ok, man. I don't wanna fight. I ... I was just wondering how you can claim to love her and then strike her."  
  
"You're judging me."  
  
"No, I'm not." Edge answered. "I'm really not. I just ... How could you turn your love to hate so fast?"  
  
"Jilted ... Lover." Chris said slowly, pointing at his chest. "Jilted ... lover. I can't help it. I don't know when it happened but ... I ... I hate her. I hate every single fiber of her lying bitch whore being."  
  
Shocked, Edge's eyes only widened.  
  
Chris laughed, sadistically, sinisterly as a different, odd glint flickered in his eyes. "I hate her. I hate him. It's all I can do. I want to see him in pain. I want her to suffer, to feel the way I do. I want her to know what it feels like to know such pain that you feel dead."  
  
Saddened, Edge cocked his head. "I hear you're sleeping with Lita."  
  
"It was a one time deal." Chris said with bitterness. "Lita and I are friends, good friends and we both needed each other, we needed that from each other and it was once and no more. We're still friends, great friends, but I haven't slept with her since that one time. Once, that was it. And I have no idea what Matt Hardy is doing, but that's Lita's business and not mine."  
  
"I ... I just can't believe that you hate her."  
  
"The sincerest of loves ... can turn into the deepest of hates." Chris snarled. "I figured you'd be the king at knowing that."  
  
Edge's eyes darkened, fired with a harsh intensity. "How dare you?" He breathed, his voice trembling with rage. "How fucking dare you, you little prick."  
  
"It's the truth."  
  
Edge pointed. "You have no right to bring any of that up. No right."  
  
"But it's the truth."  
  
"And is it not the truth that you're taking your aggression out on a woman. The woman you claim to have loved. I never did that. No matter what she did to me, I could never ... NEVER attack her, or even want to hurt her." Edge scoffed a smile. "What a real man you are, Chris? Attacking a woman. Real man."  
  
Growling his frustration, Chris turned towards the door, leaving.  
  
"That's right," Edge coaxed. "You run, you little prick. Asshole, you better run. You know I'm right!"  
  
The door swung shut.  
  
Growling his anger, Edge threw his boots across the room, raking his hands angrily through his hair. "God Fucking DAMN IT!"  
  
A knock.  
  
"WHAT!"  
  
The door creaked open, a tiny blonde head poking inside. "I ... I'm sorry. I ..."  
  
Edge sighed, upset at himself for losing so much control. He shook his head. "No no. I'm sorry. Come on in. It's ok."  
  
Stacy Keibler licked her lips, nervously stepping inside and letting the door close. She was wary, staying a good ways away from him and close to the door.  
  
"I'm not gonna hurt you, honey. I'm sorry. It's just ..."  
  
"I saw Chris leave."  
  
Edge laughed. "That would be the prick I was yelling at. Not you." He smiled, walking towards her and taking her hand gently with his. "It's been so long since I've seen you. How are you? What's new, what's going on?"  
  
"What do you know about Trish?"  
  
Edge's face dropped. "Jeez, you get right to the point, don't you?"  
  
Stacy giggled, ducking her head. "Yeah, I ... I guess I do."  
  
Edge licked his lips, leading her towards the bench and motioning for her to sit. "Why do you ask?"  
  
Stacy looked up at him sadly. "Trish cried in my arms last week. She found out about Chris and Lita. And then she just broke down."  
  
"Did Trish talk to you?"  
  
Stacy shook her head. "No ... she ... she wouldn't say anything and I'm actually worried. Something's just not right. I don't understand. I mean, this doesn't make sense. And ... and I saw Trish standing outside your door."  
  
"When?" Edge's voice quivered, nerves prominent.  
  
"Just before. I couldn't hear what you and Jericho were screaming at each other, but Trish seemed really upset and she ran off. I couldn't catch her so I came back here and ... and I want to know what's going on."  
  
Edge smiled. "Honey ... I don't even know what's going on."  
  
"What ... what did she overhear?"  
  
"Probably the worst thing of her life."  
  
"What?"  
  
Edge shook his head. "God, Chris is such a fucking idiot. I mean I look in his eyes and all I see is Trish. He is still breathing every breath for that woman. He loves her; I can see it. I know it. I know he does. And I know Trish loves him."  
  
Stacy cocked her head, curious as the handsome blonde spoke.  
  
"She really does. There's a lot you don't know here, Stace, but you just gotta trust me. She loves him so much. And if she was out there when you said she was ..."  
  
Stacy leaned forward slightly.  
  
Edge closed his eyes, almost pained. "God, then she just heard Chris say that he hated her."  
  
*** Little short, but don't worry. I really want to see what they give me next week. You all are gonna hate me but I Swear, it'll be worth it in the end. Just hang on. Read, review, let me know *** 


	5. April 26, 2004

Title: Endless Love  
  
Author: Crimson Coin Crimson_Coin@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points.  
  
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.  
  
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.  
  
Archiving: Ask me first.  
  
+++  
  
April 26, 2004  
  
Chris Jericho smiled to himself, strutting backstage and into his locker room. Oh yeah, he was proud. Real proud. He almost got his hands on the bitch tonight. Almost.  
  
He was so close. Just so close. He had his hands on her legs, on her calves as he gripped them and then he flipped her onto her back - a position she was most likely used to, the man spreading her legs and standing between them. Oh yeah, she was real used to that.  
  
Chris remembered smiling out there, the look of her in such a predicament. Ooo, had he loved the fear in her eyes. He couldn't resist the thought of turning her over and applying his submission move. And he even leaned back. Yeah, he wanted to hurt her.  
  
But that stupid Christian and Tyson ... they got in the way. Pulling Trish out of the ring, out of his hold. Stupid bastards, ruining his fun.  
  
Chris reached into his duffel bag, pulling out his cell phone. Rolling his eyes, he deleted the message without even listening. "Fucking women," he swore. So he met this girl once in the bar and she just never left him alone. Alexis ... that was her name. He thought. He really wasn't sure anymore. "None of them are fucking worth it."  
  
"I wouldn't say that."  
  
Chris jumped, turning towards the voice. His eyes widened, his guard heightened at the man in his locker room. "What the hell are you doing in here?"  
  
"It's my locker room too."  
  
"No, it's not."  
  
"Well, I sorta need to hide right now while I recoup."  
  
Chris squinted his eyes, crossing his arms as he leaned against the lockers. "You recouped yet? I didn't really want company."  
  
Matt Hardy smiled, holding the icepack firmly to his knee. "Well, tough shit. Cuz you're getting the company."  
  
Chris didn't answer for a good long while, simply eyeing the other man, suspiciously. "She's a good friend of mine, you know."  
  
Matt nodded.  
  
Chris nodded too, looking up to an abandoned corner of the room for a long few more moments. "We've moved past everything from those years ago. She's forgiven me. And now, she's the only true friend I have left. She's the only friend left that doesn't judge me."  
  
Matt cocked his head, his eyes focused, his listening intent.  
  
Chris shook his head, sighing. "Every other friend I still have. Scott, Edge, Benoit. They judge me. But not Lita. She doesn't judge me."  
  
"She never was one to judge." Matt said softly. "That was something different about her."  
  
"I'm not so sure about that."  
  
Matt shook his head. "No. Lita was never one to judge. Sometimes she'd get hunches. But she would always give the person the benefit of the doubt. Even you."  
  
Chris cocked his head. "What do you mean? Like now."  
  
"No, not now." Matt answered softly. "Those years ago. Jeff and I were wary of you, defending us and her especially. And I was pissed as hell, thinking you were trying to take her away from me, from us ... from Team Xtreme."  
  
Chris didn't answer.  
  
"But Lita trusted you." Matt said, then chuckled lightly. "I don't know why, but she trusted you. And Jeff kinda did too. But only after she convinced him. See, Jeff is much more easily swayed then me."  
  
"I slept with her."  
  
"What?"  
  
Chris sighed, shaking his head and looking away from Matt. "Lita. I slept with her." He waited then, waited for the anger, the jealousy, the repercussions of his actions. But it never came.  
  
"I don't care."  
  
"What?"  
  
Matt shrugged. "I have no business caring. She wasn't mine. She never was. Maybe that was my problem. I tried to make her mine and Lita ... she ... she's not the type to be caged like that."  
  
Chris nodded.  
  
"I'm not angry at you ... or her for what you two did." Matt continued. "Actually, I kinda understand. And I'm glad you were there for her ... and she for you."  
  
"I'm sorry about breaking your fingers."  
  
Matt smiled. "It wasn't you, it was Christian. Plus, he was acting on her account and I can't blame him either. I deserved it."  
  
Chris shook his head. "Why'd you do it, Matt? I mean ... a guy couldn't ask for a better girl than Lita."  
  
The Hardy laughed at himself, raking the hair from his eyes. "I know that now. I don't know what I was thinking then. I don't deserve her, Chris. I know that. And I was too proud after I was such an asshole to her and I just ... I couldn't go back. I ... I didn't deserve to throw myself at feet and beg her to take me back."  
  
"You still love her, don't you?"  
  
"Of course, I do." Matt answered with a soft, sad smile. "How could I not? We were together for four years. You don't just stop loving someone overnight, no matter how long you were together."  
  
"You can." Chris answered.  
  
But Matt shook his head. "No. You can't. You can be with someone for a month and be madly in love ... you can't just turn that off if things go sour. You can't forget. That's the way I see it, at least."  
  
Chris remained calm, resisting the urge to just rip off the Hardy's lips for making such a comment. It wasn't true. He didn't love Trish. She was a whore and a bitch and ... he ... he couldn't love her. He never would. He never did.  
  
Matt sighed, forcing himself to his feet with a wince. "And I know I can never make it up to her. But ... I love her. And when a man loves a woman ... he does anything to make sure she never gets hurt."  
  
Chris's eyes narrowed as the Hardy walked from the room and he snarled with a gruff, his teeth clenched at that last statement. Who the hell did Matt Hardy think he was, making a statement so nonchalant like that?  
  
Growling his anger, Chris barged out of his locker room, glancing one way than the next down the hall. Quickly choosing a direction, he stormed off in that direction. Intent on what, he didn't know. But he just walked. His mind racing, his heart pounding, his breath heavy ... what the hell was coming over him?  
  
His eyes widened, a slyly slick smile spreading onto his face and he put his hands on his hips. "Well, if it isn't the resident whore."  
  
Trish Stratus spun quickly, her face changing from surprised and frightened to blazing and angered in a matter of moments. "Just get the fuck out of here."  
  
Chris laughed, heartily, placing a hand on his chest. "Oh ho ho ho, Oh god. That's rich." He cupped his ear with his hand, leaning towards her. "What is it you'd like me to fuck? I'm sorry, speak up. Or is there something in your mouth. Cylindrical and salty maybe?"  
  
Disgusted, furious, Trish's eyes blazed, her teeth clenched and her eyes narrowed. "You fucking bastard. You sick fucking bastard. Do you have nothing better to do then stand there and torture me."  
  
Jericho shrugged, that smile never leaving his face. "Hey, sweetheart. If that's what you're into ... then I'm game for anything. But I warn you ... I only got a twenty on me, I'm not that tempted to break a fifty on your services."  
  
"What do you want, Jericho?" She snarled, her muscles tense and eyes piercing. "What do you want from me?"  
  
"Oh, I'm just havin a little fun." He drawled, taking a few steps closer to her.  
  
Trish held her ground, her head held high. "Well, you've had your fun. Now leave me alone."  
  
"Aw, Baby." He cooed, sarcastically, stepping close to her. "I figured the benefits would be much better if you had fun with a man than all by your lonesome. At least you could get a steady paycheck that way."  
  
Trish's eyes fired at his cocky smirk and she broadened her shoulders, quickly recoiling her hand.  
  
Chris's head whipped back violently at her vicious slap.  
  
"You fucking asshole." She sneered, growled at him.  
  
His eyes on fire, Chris glared at her. Not hesitating a second, he roughly gripped her arms, shoving, and pinning her viciously against the wall. Trish squeaked at his fierceness, but she stayed unwavering, unafraid of the violent serge in him.  
  
"Go ahead." She coaxed. "Hit me. You fucking bastard. Just do it, and get it outta your system. I don't know how I ever could have felt something for you."  
  
"You never did." He snarled, his eyes narrowed as they stood nose to nose. His breath panting, his heart racing, his body shook with intensity and he tightened his grip on her. He knew when she squirmed in discomfort; his hold was too tight. ... Good.  
  
"Didn't I?" Was her only response.  
  
His eyes intense, he stared into her deep brown eyes. His eyes trailed over her brow, her cheeks and neck then lips ... good God, those lips. He closed his eyes. Not again. No ... not again. Quickly, he cleared his mind of those lustful thoughts. ... Or at least, tried to.  
  
"Get the fuck away from her!"  
  
Before Jericho could even react, a fist impacted his jaw and he stumbled away from Trish landing hard on the floor, right on his tail bone. He hissed, winced as the sharp pain stabbed up his spine, but he shook that off, eyeing his attacker.  
  
Tyson Tomko growled, his muscles tensed as he glared at the man who was attacking the woman he swore to protect.  
  
Gathering his strength, Jericho pushed up onto his feet, ready to fight. Tomko charged.  
  
"No, Tyson." Trish broke in, placing herself in front of her protector, her hands on his pecks as she blocked the big man. "Tyson, don't. Don't, I'm ok. I swear."  
  
Tyson narrowed his eyes, his fists clenching as he cracked his neck. "I see his hand prints on your arm." He said, deeply, intensely.  
  
"That's not from him." Trish said, quickly. "It's not. I swear."  
  
"Then who?" Tyson asked, sternly. "Who put that mark on your arm?"  
  
"It's nothing." Trish pleaded. "Please, please just forget about it. Don't worry. I'm ok. Just ... let's just leave."  
  
Tyson took a moment, eyeing her then sending a warning glare in Jericho's direction. "I'll escort you back to the locker room."  
  
Trish glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes softening a moment at the sight of a little trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. But she quickly turned her back, grabbing Tyson's large hand as they walked down the hall.  
  
Jericho brought his fingers to his mouth, wiping away the little trickle as his eyes locked on her retreating form. "Bitch." He muttered to himself. "That filthy bitch."  
  
His glare narrowed as he watched her tiny hand on the big man's arm. That tiny hand and her delicate almost affectionate touch. That whore. That tramp. She was probably screwing Tomko too. That whore. That gorgeous two timing whore.  
  
Chris viciously shook his head. No! No, what was he thinking? Gorgeous? She ... Trish was a tramp. A tramp and he knew it. Everyone knew it. Well, assumed ... no. Everyone knew it. Trish Stratus was a tramp.  
  
"Chris?"  
  
He slowly turned his angered eyes towards the voice.  
  
Stacy Keibler shied further into herself, ducking her head and recoiling inward, afraid of him. "Chris, I ... I've been looking for you."  
  
"Well, you found me." He sadistically snapped. "So what do you want?"  
  
Stacy shuddered, licking her lips as she glanced longingly around the hall, wishing that she wasn't alone with him. "I ... I'm sorry, Chris. I ... I just wanted ... wanted to see if you were ok."  
  
"Do I look ok to you?" His eye actually twitched as he pointed to himself. "Do I ... look ok ... to you?"  
  
"I ... I ... I ..."  
  
"No, seriously, Stacy." Chris laughed, sarcastically. "I mean really. Take a good fucking look at me. Do I look ... ok?"  
  
Stacy wrapped her arms around her waist, ducking her head.  
  
"Do I?!" He yelled, stepping closer to her, nose to nose. "DO I!" he finally screamed in her face.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
Chris jostled as he was tossed back.  
  
Edge quickly placed himself in front of Stacy, keeping her to his back. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"  
  
Stacy only shuddered, her hands on the small of her protector's back. She was frightened. More frightened then with Test or Steiner.  
  
Chris glared, intense and almost insane with the glint in his eye.  
  
Edge pointed down the hall. "Just get the fuck outta here, ok? Get yourself fucking together."  
  
Chris didn't move but kept his eyes locked on the other man.  
  
Edge stood tall, refusing to back down. As the seconds ticked past, he felt Stacy clutch at the back of his shirt, her tiny fingers fisting the fabric and the waist of his pants. She was frightened, shaking. He didn't like that.  
  
Blinking slowly, Chris turned his back, walking away.  
  
Edge released the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Shaking his head, he turned towards the woman at his back. "Oh, Sweetie." He cooed at the sight of her.  
  
Stacy quickly wiped her eyes, keeping her gaze averted and at his stomach.  
  
He silently swore at the tears on her cheeks and he reached up, wiping away the wet streaks with his thumbs. "Honey, don't cry. It's ok." Slowly so not to scare her, Edge wrapped his arms around the smaller woman, cradling her preciously against his muscular chest. "Shhhhh, come here. It's ok."  
  
Shuddering, Stacy clutched at him, burying into his chest as she quivered with new tears. "He ... he frightened me." She mumbled. "I ..."  
  
"Shhhh," he hushed, placing a sweet kiss on the top of her head before pressing his cheek there, rocking her. "Shhh, don't worry. It'll all be ok." And Edge swallowed hard at the realization that in truth, he was lying to her.  
  
*** There, how was that. Moving along nicely. Tell me what you thought. If you couldn't tell, can't you feel the tension. Just guess what I'm gonna do for next week.*** 


	6. May 3, 2004

Title: Endless Love  
  
Author: Crimson Coin Crimson_Coin@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points.  
  
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.  
  
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.  
  
Archiving: Ask me first.  
  
+++  
  
May 3, 2004  
  
Edge winced, clutching at his wrist, rubbing the cast as he walked backstage to his locker room. They attacked his wrist, his injury. What kind of bastards were Evolution to attack his injured wrist. He'd stop using the cast as a primary weapon, even had it painted black so that it was less noticeable.  
  
Nope.  
  
Didn't matter. They attacked it anyway. Almost like they wanted to break it again, like they wanted him on the shelf for another few months.  
  
Edge gritted his teeth. Like hell that would work. He would not be put out of action again; wrestling with a broken wrist had proved that and Edge would not give up. The words 'Give up' were not even in his vocabulary, which was why he was still in the wrestling ring.  
  
An angered growl slipped from his lips as he stormed into his locker room. "Ahhhh! Shit!" he swore, shaking out his wrist again. "Stupid, Fucking Stupid" he scolded himself. "Smart one, Edge." He sarcastically jested. "Why don't you just crash through the door LEADING with your bum wrist. Stupid fucking son of a..."  
  
"Oh my God, Edge."  
  
Edge staggered as he was attacked by a worried blonde, the diva running her hands over his abs, chest, then cupping his face to look in his eyes.  
  
"Are you ok?"  
  
"I'm fine." He hissed, looking down at his wrist. "Just those fuckers decided to ..."  
  
"I know." Stacy said, gently grabbing his wrist, holding it preciously in her hands, as if that the slightest move could break him. "Let me see." She turned his wrist one way then the next, inspecting both sides and all areas of the cast. "They didn't break your cast at least. Come here. Sit down."  
  
Edge followed her to the couch in his locker room and he sank heavily into it, tilting his head onto the back cushion, staring at the ceiling as he took a few deep breaths. He felt the couch sink at his left side and her hands were on his arm again. He glanced at her.  
  
Stacy kept her head ducked, a soft icepack in her hands. "I don't know how much this will help." She gently draped the icepack on his wrist, still cupping the cast in her hands. "But it might chill the pain a little." She kept her eyes on his hand. "Even if it's just a little."  
  
Edge sighed, relaxed by her touch and his gaze softened as he watched her. Her tiny fingers danced over his cast before brushing delicately over his fingers, her touch so gentle he could barely feel her. Like the gentle caress of a summer breeze, affectionate and sweetly, she touched him. His fingers reflexively twitched and she brushed those thin fingers back up his cast, readjusting the ice.  
  
He yearned for her to play with his fingers again and as if sensing his desire, she brushed back down his hand, her touch tickling his digits. So soft, so gentle, so caring. He never knew a touch could be so.  
  
Stacy nervously licked her lips, indulging herself in touching him. Maybe, just maybe he wouldn't notice. Wouldn't notice the reason why she touched him so, why she caressed him with such affection. But she couldn't help it. She'd wanted to touch his hands for the longest time. He had such beautiful hands. They were so large, his fingers thick and she couldn't resist. She wanted to touch them.  
  
"You won't break me."  
  
Stacy jostled at his voice, nervously pulling her hands away as she looked in his eyes, worried she'd done something wrong.  
  
But he only smiled. Not that bright grin that he usually smiled; this was something different. This smile was soft, sensual and sweet. "It's ok, Stace. You won't break me."  
  
She bowed her head, a smile tugging at her lips and she did everything she could to hide her blush. "I ... I just didn't want to hurt you."  
  
He reached over with his other hand, hooking his fingers under her chin to lift her gaze to his. "You never could."  
  
Stacy swallowed hard as their eyes met. His eyes, Good Lord, his eyes; she was drowning. As cliché as it was, she never believed a person could drown in another's eyes. Yet here she was, helpless as she grasped at the ledges of reality, trying to pull herself from his gaze. And she couldn't. He was engulfing her with nothing more than a look.  
  
His smile broadened as his fingers abandoned her chin and he brushed the tips over her cheek before affectionately tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "So don't you worry about little ol' me."  
  
She smiled, shy and unsure but leaned slightly closer, shaking her head a little in a scolding way. "I will if I want to, Mister."  
  
Edge laughed, nodding submissively. "Well I can't really argue with that now, can I?"  
  
"Nope, you can't."  
  
"Good." He breathed seriously, leaning closer to her. So close that Stacy thought he would kiss her. But he didn't, instead stopped just a few inches from her, his eyes piercing hers and he licked his lips, speaking so she could feel his breath on her lips. "Cuz I don't really want to."  
  
Stacy's breath caught high in her throat; she couldn't breathe. Her body trembled just a little at his nearness and Stacy expelled a shaky nervous breath, nearly melting when he reached up to cup her cheek.  
  
"Now, Princess." He cooed, his voice deep and gruff as he kept his tone and volume as soft as possible. "Why don't you get your things from the locker room? I'll give you a ride back to the hotel."  
  
Giving a shaky nod, she slowly pulled away from him, ducking her head and turning her back, walking quickly from the room. When the door swung closed behind her, Edge released the breath he'd been holding.  
  
"Good Lord," he swore, closing his eyes a moment to regain his composure. Shaking his head, he looked into his lap. "I must commend you, my friend, for staying in control." He licked his lips, leaning back in the couch as he stared at the ceiling. "Now ... please, God, let me stay that way the rest of the night."  
  
+++  
  
Lita viciously wiped her eyes, pacing the length of the women's locker room. Matt Hardy stood close by, watching his love as she tried desperately to stop the tears. "Lita."  
  
But Lita only shook her head. "Don't, Matt. I ... I can't think straight right now. I ... I'm so ..."  
  
Matt watched her pace and when close enough, he wrapped his arms right around her, pulling her protectively into his chest. "Shhh, Baby, it's ok." He rocked her gently, pillowing his head against hers as he hushed into her ear.  
  
Lita clutched at him, the tears falling again. "Why me, Matt? Why ... why me?"  
  
"I don't know, Sweetheart." Matt drawled. "I don't know." He cupped her face, looking into her eyes. "Let me see you," he looked carefully, checking to see if the rumors he heard might be true. But he couldn't tell. Her tears blocked anything else. He sighed, pulling her back into his arms.  
  
She buried her head in his throat, her arms wrapping around his neck as she mumbled against him. "I ... I can't take this anymore. It's all too much and happening so fast."  
  
"What is?"  
  
She sniffled. "Everything. Trish and Christian and then Edge and now Stacy and Edge are acting weird and ever since I told Jeff about how Chris was there for me when everything went down after Wrestlemania and how we spent that night together and Jeff hasn't talked to me since then and he doesn't return my calls and now with Kane and I'm so scared and you've had this sudden change of heart and ... and I ... I just don't know what's going on."  
  
"Shhh, Sweetheart." Matt cooed, rocking her gently. "Don't worry about it. It'll all work out. I ... Jeff hasn't talked to me since ... since that night I ..." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I'll ... I'll call him tonight, and we'll think of something. Don't worry." He sighed. "We'll ... we'll think of something."  
  
+++  
  
Chris Jericho gritted his teeth, sitting on a steel chair in the trainer's room, leaning forward, his head between his legs as he breathed deeply.  
  
"Chris, just breathe. Take it easy."  
  
Jericho growled, glaring up at the trainer. "You weren't just cocked in the balls. Telling me to breathe? You try to breathe!"  
  
The trainer nodded, understanding and still calm. "All right. You just sit there. I'm going to go check on Tajiri."  
  
Chris shook his head, watching the trainer cross the room. "Right in the balls. Right in the fucking balls! You telling me to breathe ... come here ... I'll give you 'breathe'." He shook his head, bowing again. "Prick." He mumbled, licking his dry lips.  
  
His thoughts raced, the possibilities, the emotions charging through his body faster than he could categorize them. He didn't know what he was feeling. One moment, anger; the next, betrayal; the next, sorrow; the next, confusion. He couldn't keep his mind straight.  
  
Forcing himself to his feet, he sucked up the pain and walked out of the room.  
  
+++  
  
In his street clothes, Chris left the arena. He just had to get away. It was all too much. His duffel bag hanging heavily from his shoulder, he walked slowly down the city streets. The hotel wasn't that far away, and it was nice outside. He had no plans of driving to or from the arena. And so he walked.  
  
His mind hadn't stopped a moment; he had no rest. He couldn't still his thoughts, couldn't gather his ideas. His head hurt, spinning with his loss and Chris reached up, cupping the back of his neck as he walked.  
  
Shaking off the weakness, he glanced around the city, his eyes falling on a familiar structure. The stairs, the door, the arches, the steeple, the windows; he walked inside. He sighed, an odd relaxed feeling filled him, warmed his core and he no longer felt so alone. His eyes softened as he looked around.  
  
The church was beautiful. High gothic pillars rose like giants from the floor, stretching to the heavens and supporting a richly painted ceiling, the design resembling the bottom of a ship. Dark oak pews occupied the floor, a long center aisle; the marble floor led to a carpeted sanctuary. A Roman marbled altar sat strong and heavy under a giant wooden crucifix, two pulpits to the sides, standing guard.  
  
He slowly walked up the center aisle. The pulpits were high, small spiral staircases leading to the podium and a decorative wooden awning with detailed wooden figures carved round the bust loomed over the blessed books. He couldn't tell what the stained glass windows were; it was dark outside.  
  
But the side sanctuaries flickered with lit candles, statues of holy figures erect in each and ... he wasn't sure which Saint ... but the statue stood large and proud beside the Gospel pulpit, that same figure painted into the ceiling above the altar. Chris assumed it was the patron Saint for whom the church was named.  
  
Sighing, Chris bowed his head in respect then sat in one of the pews. Looking around the church, he spotted a box he'd only heard about. Cocking his head, he fixed his bag, shouldering it as he walked to that box. A green light shined bright above his head and he couldn't see inside, but only saw three doors next to each other. Choosing one, he stepped inside.  
  
The room was small, dark. A small translucent window to one side, a cushioned kneeler in front, Chris dropped his bag to the floor and knelt down. Squinting his eyes, he tried to look through the wavy glass. He jumped as he heard a wooden scratch and light shone through the still foggy glass. He could see the figure, only a silhouette and the man seemed to have long hair.  
  
"What is it, child?"  
  
Chris felt comforted at the deep male voice. And he ducked his head as if out of instinct, folding his hands as he spoke. "I'm not Catholic, Father, but ... I don't know where else to go."  
  
"It's ok, my son." The priest sad, softly, paternal in his tone. "This is a house of God. All are welcome here."  
  
Chris smiled, shaking his head. "I don't really think I deserve to be in a house of God. I haven't exactly been a good person."  
  
"We are all human." The priest answered. "God understands us and always forgives our mistakes, if we are penitent within ourselves."  
  
"I don't know if I am."  
  
"Mmmm," The priest paused a moment. "Well, what seems to be troubling you?"  
  
Chris sighed. "It's a long complicated story." He chuckled at himself. "About a girl."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Yeah," Chris agreed. "I swore she loved me. And I loved her. God, did I ... oh, uh ... sorry about that. But man, did I love her. I ... I can honestly say I have never loved anyone on this earth more than her. And then all of a sudden one day, she just changed. She turned on me. She became a bi ... a witch. She left me for my friend, who'd treated her like garbage and tried to physically hurt her. And ... then she just looked me in the eye and said she was playing me ... she never cared."  
  
Chris growled, scolding himself. "I was so stupid for believing that she cared about me. But I believed her. I believed her eyes when she looked at me. I ... I thought she was completely open, that I could see her soul. Oh, when she looked at me. I swear she loved me. I could see it. I knew it; I felt it. From the way she touched me to the way she kissed me. I just ... I knew it."  
  
"I was wrong." Chris reprimanded, his shoulders tensing. "Damn it, I was so wrong. So very wrong. I'm so stupid. I'm even stupider because I ..." he sighed. "I still love her. I ... I still love her so much. Just ... just so much. Even after everything she's done. Leaving me for a physical relationship with my ex-friend and demeaning me then attacking me, stalking around and I ... I still love her. What's wrong with me?"  
  
"Nothing's wrong with you, son." The priest answered. "It's natural for us to love. It's unnatural for us to hate."  
  
"But I do hate her."  
  
"No, you don't." The priest said with a smile. "You said yourself that you still loved her."  
  
"But she doesn't love me."  
  
"Are you so sure?"  
  
Chris nodded. "Yes. Yes, she's told me so."  
  
"What is your name, son?"  
  
Chris stuttered a moment, thrown off track by the question. "Uhm, Chris."  
  
"Has she actually said, 'Chris, I don't love you'?"  
  
"I ... I can't remember. We ... we work on camera for a living and she said a lot to me on camera."  
  
"Mmmm," The priest scratched his chin. "Is it customary to act differently on camera than one's true feelings."  
  
"Uh," Chris shrugged. "Well ... I do. But ... but most people don't. It's as real on camera as it is backstage."  
  
"But you said that you 'act' on screen. Did it ever occur to you she may be acting for some reason?"  
  
Chris shook his head. "No. No, that couldn't be possible."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because she doesn't love me. She said that I was out of her league."  
  
"On camera."  
  
"That doesn't matter."  
  
"But it does, Chris." The priest said. "I may be a man of the cloth, but in my years of service, I've learned about people. I've learned that when a person looks into another's eyes and sees love ... then there is love there. If you saw love in her eyes, then she loves you."  
  
Chris shook his head. "No, she couldn't. She ... she couldn't love me. She ... I ... we've been so horrible to each other over these last few months. There is no more love."  
  
The priest didn't respond at first. "Chris, when you see her ... how do you feel?"  
  
"It hurts."  
  
The priest nodded. "Yes. And when you tear away the hurt and the anger and the betrayal, what do you feel when you look at her?"  
  
Chris bit his lower lip, his eyes narrowed as he thought. But his thoughts stung true.  
  
"It's ok, Chris." The priest cooed. "What do you feel when you look at her?"  
  
"Home." Chris sighed. "I feel ... home."  
  
"Ah, my son." A smile could be heard in the priest's tone. "Then you truly love her. And nothing she could ever do will change that."  
  
Chris looked into the translucent window. "What do I do, Father?"  
  
The window slid open.  
  
Chris gazed on the face of this priest. He could feel a strange comforting caressing sensation as blissful relaxation filled his core. There was warmth, understanding and love ... such absolute love.  
  
The priest smiled. "Do what your heart yearns for?"  
  
Chris couldn't stop his lower lip from quivering, a tear slipped from his eye. He was filled with awe, wonder, and helplessness. "I yearn for her." His voice cracked out.  
  
"It shall be." The priest said then cocked his head, his eyes softening and hypnotic. "Trust in God and the power of love. If you love her the way you say you do, then she can never deny you. Take action. Don't look at the surface."  
  
Chris nodded.  
  
"She may have been seduced by evil." The priest continued. "She may have reasons beyond your comprehension at this very point. But I can tell you, Chris, that I know she loves you. She loves you with all her heart. Trust me. Trust God. Trust yourself."  
  
Chris licked his lips, transfixed on the sight of this young priest. "How ... how will I know?"  
  
"You'll know." The priest said, softly. "You see ..." the priest blinked slowly, leaning a little closer. "It is in the word of God, the love of which you speak. 'For love is as strong as death, jealousy is as severe as Sheol; its flashes are flashes of fire, the very flame of the Lord. Many waters cannot quench love, nor will rivers overflow it; if a man were to give all the riches of his house for love, it would be utterly despised.' So spaketh the Lord."  
  
"Amen," Chris breathed, dazed and awed, as if the answer came from his conscience, his soul.  
  
"Go, my child." The priest said soothingly. "Remember what I've said to you. Remember the gift that our Lord has given you. In his infinite kindness, he has given you the gift of purest love." The priest closed that window, the translucent fog separating them once more. "Go, my son, and remember what you've heard and seen today."  
  
Chris, unable to respond, obeyed. He stood, slowly shouldering his bag as his eyes focused on the still form behind the glass. Exiting the confessional, Chris stood dazed in the aisle for a few moments.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
Chris jumped at the voice and an elderly priest approached him. The priest spoke again. "What were you doing in there? Confessions don't begin until midnight."  
  
"I ... I'm sorry." Chris slowly apologized. "I ... I already spoke to the priest who was in there. I'll be on my way."  
  
The elderly man cocked his head, eyeing the younger man with curiosity. "What priest? No one was in there."  
  
Chris nodded. "Yeah. There was ... I ... I just spoke with him." He bowed his head in respect then turned, walking down the aisle towards the exit. His eyes shifted one way then the next, his pace slowed. Dazed, drained, he forced his feet to move though he stumbled.  
  
As Chris approached the final archway, he eyed the altar once more before walking into the final sanctuary. Pausing at the exit door, his hand hovered over the large handle and as if something forced his will, he looked to the side. His head cocked, his eyes focused on the statue.  
  
His bag dropping subconsciously to the ground, Chris walked towards that small sanctuary niche. His eyes narrowed, focusing intently on the statue, the face, the body.  
  
"Son?"  
  
Chris didn't react to the elderly priest's voice.  
  
"Son, there is no priest in the confessional. I don't know who you spoke with."  
  
Chris swallowed hard, raising a shaky hand and pointing at the statue. His eyes searched frantically, every inch of the statue, at the candles adorning the wall, the floor and all along the sides of the sanctuary. "Who ... who is that?"  
  
"Who? That statue?"  
  
Chris nodded, barely controlled. He recognized the face. He recognized the eyes, the hair, the body structure. The outline of the statue matched ... he quickly looked back to the priest. "Yes. Yes, the statue who ... who ... who is ... is that?" his face twitched and contorted as an overwhelming sensation surged through his body. His knees shuddered, his body trembled and all of a sudden, he felt weak.  
  
"Why that's the Archangel Raphael. Patron Saint of the blind, travelers and love." The elderly priest answered. "His feast day is September 29 or October 24. It had been in September but in 1921 it was combined with St Gabriel and St. Michael in October because ... Son, are you all right?"  
  
A wave of nausea rushed through his body and Chris winced, his sides aching beyond comprehensible pain and his stomach jostled and jerked. His head whipped violently as Chris looked into the face of this statue yet again. Quivering, trembling, Chris felt sick. Pangs shot through his spine and all strength drained from his body as the new sensations of humility and meekness filled his being.  
  
He shook his head. "No," he cried softly. "No, no ... no ... no ..." He swallowed hard, his meager human control no match for the celestial power by which he was overcome.  
  
Chris collapsed at the feet of the statue, tears bursting from his eyes.  
  
*** Please, review ***  
  
(The above mentioned Bible verse is Song 8:6-7) 


	7. May 10, 2004

Title: Endless Love  
  
Author: Crimson Coin CrimsonCoinyahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points.  
  
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.  
  
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.  
  
Archiving: Ask me first.  
  
Chris Jericho waited patiently atop the steel cage. "Like hell I'm coming down there." He yelled at Tyson. "Come on, you big buffoon. What ... ape man can't climb the cage. Yeah ... yeah ... that's what I thought."  
  
Tyson narrowed his eyes, backing up slightly and kneeling down next to Trish, lowering his eyes to her tiny form as he placed a large hand on her back. "Trish?"  
  
"I'm fine." Trish said, softly. "I'm really fine."  
  
Tyson turned his gaze from the woman back to Jericho. "Why don't you come down here and fight me like a man then? Putting your hands on her ... I should kill you for that."  
  
Jericho laughed, throwing a hand in the air. "Go ahead. Just you try. Why don't YOU bring that lumbering ass up here and get me?" He smiled as the crowd continued to roar. He knew the cameras were off but he didn't care. He raised his arms. "I'm the King of the World!"  
  
Tyson shook his head, careful as he rubbed that large hand over Trish's back. "Do you need me to help you?"  
  
"No." Trish answered quickly. "Help Christian. I'm fine." She winced slightly, pushing up onto her feet and surprised herself when it didn't hurt to stand. Reaching out, she grabbed the ring ropes for emergency support but once standing, realized she didn't need that extra balance. There was no pain. Straightening her back, she glanced up at the top of the cage.  
  
Jericho's eyes were intense, staring powerfully at her. His ice blue eyes shone brightly despite being so far away and Trish swallowed hard as he looked right through her. A slight frown curled his lips, his shoulders sagged as his eyes locked on her. So captivating, so beautiful. She'd forgotten how beautiful his eyes really were. It had been so long since he looked at her void of anger.  
  
Bowing her head, Trish turned her back, walking quickly out the cage door and up the ramp.

* * *

Chris Jericho wiped the sweat from his brow as he walked slowly down the hollow corridor of the arena. Directionless, he didn't care where he was going. He simply walked.  
  
Her familiar voice carried to his ears and he had to close his eyes to the pain. No. He couldn't let her voice get to him again. The sound of her voice brought the utmost physical pain to his heart. But Chris was a masochist and couldn't walk away.  
  
He couldn't understand what she was saying, not yet at least. He continued down the hall past various doors until reaching Christian's locker room. He could hear them inside.  
  
"That looks terrible. Why don't you have it checked out?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"I'm serious, Christian. That really looks gross. You should make sure you don't need stitches."  
  
"I don't care. I'm fine." Christian paused a few moments, some scuffling prominent. "What the hell were you doing coming into the ring like that? You had to have known he would attack you."  
  
Chris felt a stinging pain at those words.  
  
"I ... I don't know."  
  
"Were you going to hit him with that chair?"  
  
"God, no. I ... I couldn't. I ... I couldn't. Oh God, Sweetie, please get that checked out."  
  
"You're changing the subject."  
  
"So what if I am."  
  
Christian let out a heavy sigh. "Trish ... Honey, don't do this to yourself."  
  
Chris closed his eyes, their constant use of endearments tearing him apart and still he couldn't walk away. His mind had been consumed with her and that his vision from last week truly was a sign. They were meant to be. And he just had to find a way. Licking his lips, he leaned closer to the door.  
  
"He didn't hurt me tonight."  
  
"What?"  
  
"With the walls. He ... He didn't apply it high or do anything where it would have hurt me. It's like he knew just how flexible I was and didn't push any harder."  
  
Chris bit his tongue, the sexual connotations in that last comment filling the air. No ... no he couldn't say anything. No doubt Christian would say something anyway.  
  
"I don't care how flexible you are ... I don't want him hurting you."  
  
Chris furrowed his brow. What? No sexual innuendos. No come on's, no flirting. There was no response for a good long while. Only deafening silence in the room.  
  
"If her hurts me ... I deserve it."  
  
"Don't say that."  
  
"I've hurt him." She snarled. "So if he hurts me I deserve it. I deserve every God damned thing he does."  
  
"No. Don't say that. Good Lord, I don't care what you did, you don't deserve to be treated this way." A pause for a moment or two. "You know," one could hear the smile in Christian's voice. "Tyson seems to be taking a real liking to you."  
  
Trish giggled. "What can I say? I bat an eyelash and I can get any man to do as I please."  
  
Christian laughed. "Yes, my dear, you certainly can."  
  
There was a pause for some time before Trish's voice rang soft and hurt. "If I only I could do that where it counted."  
  
"Oh sweetie. Please don't cry. You know I hate to see you cry."  
  
"I'm not crying."  
  
"Now you're lying to me."  
  
"Christian, what ... what about Lita?"  
  
"Well ... if I were truly honest what you did was mean and horrible and traumatic to a woman who used to be your best friend. On the other hand ... it was pretty damn funny."  
  
"I was legitimately concerned, you know."  
  
"I'm sure you were."  
  
"It wasn't my fault." Trish said, quickly. "Eric was standing at the far side and he was listening and ... and that was the first thing that came to my mind."  
  
"One of these days. I'm gonna get that slimy Eric Bischoff."  
  
Chris Jericho cocked his head. Slimy ... Eric Bischoff? Was he hearing correctly? Why did Trish and Christian sound concerned, like they truly cared one way or the other? And they cared about others? Odd. Very very odd.  
  
"I can't wait."  
  
And Trish felt the same way? Shocked, Chris pulled away from the door, his eyes narrowed as confusion raced through his mind. What was going on? More curious and even more masochistic, he leaned in again, listening carefully.  
  
She sighed, delicately, letting out a soft yawn. "I'm exhausted, Christian. I think I'm gonna head back to the hotel."  
  
"Ok. I want to shower first and rinse some of this blood away."  
  
"Are you going to be all right?"  
  
"Of course, Babe." He answered with a smile. "The real important question is ... are you?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You ok to stay alone tonight. Cuz just say the word and you can sleep with me."  
  
Chris viciously shook his head, stepping away from the door and walking down the hall. He couldn't listen anymore. He didn't want to here Christian propositioning her to his bed. Just the thought of Christian sharing a bed with his Trish repulsed him to ... wait.  
  
His Trish?  
  
Where had that come from? Why had he called her that? She wasn't his. She never was and never would be. From where did that sudden possessive surge rise?  
  
Blinking furiously, he stared down the opposite end of the hall. Edge stood with Stacy outside his locker room, the two blondes smiling at each other, laughing and joking about something or other. Chris didn't know; he couldn't really hear them. Edge laughed heartily as Stacy slipped into his arms, giving him a comforting hug and the blonde man's eyes wandered down the hall, locking with Chris.  
  
Jericho shuddered, the sudden glare shooting from his former friend sending chills down his spine. Mental note to self: Rectify situation with Stacy and Edge.  
  
But Chris couldn't handle that now. He was far from stable enough to control his own emotions right now much less coping with others in an attempt to mend burnt bridges. He turned his head away, staring back towards Christian's locker room.  
  
He couldn't clear his mind of the visions, the signs from the last week. He didn't want to admit to himself the possibility of witnessing such a glorious miracle. In honesty the concept of an angel of the Lord speaking directly to him was quite frightening and he wasn't emotionally ready yet to deal with the burning thought of that.  
  
But Chris still couldn't get a certain thought from his mind. The thought that Trish was acting. The thought that there was more to her and possibly Christian's actions then what were on the surface. He didn't like that thought. And listening to Trish speak with Christian in an almost brotherly fashion did nothing to quench that curiosity, but only sparked it.  
  
His eyes focused, narrowing as Christian's locker room door opened and Trish stepped outside. Her head bowed, she paused in the hallway a moment, gathering herself and Chris cocked his head, eyeing her carefully. Looking at her from afar, there was no doubt in his mind. That woman was still his Trish, the woman he fell in love with ... the women he was with up until Wrestlemania. She was the same. Mannerisms, facial expressions, even the essence he could feel traveling down the hall. Though something was still different, as if she weren't whole but only shelled in this cruel place. She was weak, scared. He didn't like that.  
  
Chris closed his eyes. No. This was wrong. He shouldn't feel that way, he had no right. He had no right to still care for Trish Stratus. Whether she cared for him or not made no difference. She had made her choice. She betrayed him. She broke his heart and chose his best friend. She slapped him, embarrassed him and then kissed his best friend passionately. And seemingly proud.  
  
Forcing his eyes opened, he looked back down in her direction. She still hadn't noticed him and Chris felt some relief at that. She sighed heavily, leaning against the wall as she pressed a hand into her eyes, controlling herself best she could. And still looking at her like this, so vulnerable and so beautiful ... Chris just couldn't believe that Trish Stratus had betrayed him.  
  
Her hand dropped gently to her side and she blinked a few times, tilting her head back as she sighed, composing herself. Pushing off the wall, her eyes met his and instantly widened. The second time in less than an hour and he was staring at her again. But this stare was so different than the ones he gave only last week or the week before. His eyes no longer shined with hate and malice.  
  
No more did anger dwell dominant in his eyes. But instead the vengeful rage was replaced with pain, longing and hurt. Just looking at him brought fresh tears to her eyes and Trish knew she had to look away. She just had to look away before she caved, flying to his arms and then collapsing at his feet, begging for forgiveness.  
  
She wanted him back. She wanted him back more than ever. She wanted his arms around her again, to hold her as he did that week back in March. She wanted his body to cradle hers, his lips and mouth to worship hers. She wanted to hold his heart, to hold his body again. His eyes so bright and blue and so very beautiful. But they were glassed and full of pain. Pain that she put there and was completely responsible for.  
  
Unable to look anymore, Trish quickly turned her back, rushing away from his prying eyes and away from the love she could still see and feel within him. This wasn't right. Why couldn't he just hate her so that the pain would end and she could heal? Why couldn't he ...  
  
She gasped as a rough hand grabbed her arm and she was whipped against the cement wall, another hand grabbing her opposite wrist to keep her from moving. Composing herself from the impact, she opened her eyes, staring up into those same crystal blues again.  
  
Chris breathed slowly, controlled as he held her firmly, his grip not hard but strong and he pinned her to the wall, holding her hands behind her back so she couldn't get away. His eyes locked on hers and he searched the familiar beauteous depths.  
  
Trish swallowed hard, yearning to look away and just run. But she couldn't. He wouldn't let her. Captivated, helpless she just stared into his eyes, willing her stoned mask to raise and protect her from his gaze. But it wouldn't and Trish stood vulnerable ... open to him and anything he wished to see.  
  
His intensity frightened her though only for a moment. Just looking in his eyes, she knew he wouldn't hurt her. His eyes silently begged for answers, for an explanation and in that instant he stopped believing her previous excuses and stories. He wanted the truth. She could see it.  
  
Resisting every urge to curl into his arms and just cry, Trish blinked a few times, though the action did not stop the teardrops from falling down her cheek. "Chris," she pleaded, his name easily rolling off her tongue. "Chris, let me go."  
  
He closed his eyes at those words, ignoring any possible hidden message in them and he shook his head. He didn't respond verbally, but only opened his eyes, searching hers yet again.  
  
"Chris, just don't. Don't." She squirmed under his grasp, worming her wrists from his hold then quickly ducking under his arms.  
  
Chris turned slowly, confused and hurt as she raced away from him and down the corridor. He'd seen more in her eyes that single moment than he'd seen in what seemed like forever. He wanted answers. He wanted answers now.  
  
And none of the bullshit they'd been feeding him lately. He wouldn't trust Christian. He wouldn't trust Tyson or Edge or Stacy or anyone else. He wanted to hear it from Trish. And not in front of the cameras this time where she may be forced to 'act' or be fake. No no, he needed her alone. Chris would find a way.  
  
(End this chapter. Moving along nicely. Here's hoping I didn't dig myself into a hole Read ... review ... let me know what you think. ) 


	8. May 17, 2004

Title: Endless Love  
  
Author: Crimson Coin CrimsonCoinyahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.  
  
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.  
  
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.  
  
Archiving: Ask me first.  
  
May 17, 2004  
  
The Rock smiled broadly as he strutted down the arena halls. San Diego, California and he was happy to be back inside the arena. It felt good. Seeing the boys, the girls ... oh yes, those girls. There was nothing like looking at one of those sizzling WWE Divas. Many of the women in Hollywood couldn't measure up. Usually too thin or arrogant, pompous dingbats who didn't know a bicep from their left ass cheek.  
  
But in the arena, The Rock felt at home.  
  
"Rocky?"  
  
The Rock's smile brightened, his eyes falling half lid with amusement as he spun with his stride, facing the owner of the voice behind him. "Why, Hello there, Baby. It's been some time since The Rock has seen your lovely self."  
  
Lillian Garcia smiled at him with a slight shake of the head. "You really never change, do you?"  
  
"Change? The Rock never changes. The Rock ... hates change. Especially when you're on the highway and you see every lane has 'exact change only'. Oh yes, that really pisses The Rock off."  
  
Lillian laughed, placing a hand on her chest as she stepped closer to him. "No. You never change." Her laughter trailed off and she cocked her head, eyeing him tenderly. "But seriously, it's great to see you again. I never expected ..."  
  
The Rock held up a single hand, silencing her. "Now what makes you think that The Rock would miss the opportunity to be here when RAW is so close to The Rock's home."  
  
"Cut the third person shit." she jested. "The camera's aren't on back here."  
  
He nodded, his patented superstar grin shining bright. "That is true but ... The Rock afraid he doesn't know what you're talking about."  
  
She shook her head. "Fine. You win. But seriously, Rocky. I want to talk to you."  
  
"About what?" The Rock asked, a softness to his voice – a softness not commonly heard in his voice.  
  
Lillian recognized the new tone and shivered at the thought that he only held that tone with her. "About what's been going on since Wrestlemania."  
  
"Chris Jericho called me and cleared everything up. The Rock knows everything, as The Rock always does."  
  
Lillian pointed a finger, her brow raised flirtatiously. "Slipped up there. I heard a first person pronoun."  
  
He cocked a single brow. "Now don't you make The Rock lay the Smackdown."  
  
She took one step closer, reaching out and placing a gentle hand on his arm. "Well, where exactly did you have that in mind? Because there's an empty locker room right behind you."  
  
He chuckled. "What is this? Are you saying you are up for a little game of 'Hide the Strudel' with The Rock. Hey now ... Easy big fella." He teased, rubbing his thigh. "Is that what you are insinuating, Miss Lillian Garcia."  
  
She shrugged, running her hand up his arm, loving how his eyes momentarily fluttered before he regained control. "Quite possibly. But I wanna talk first."  
  
"Pillow talk, huh, Baby. That is more than fine with The Rock."  
  
Lillian ducked her head, eyeing both ends of the hallway to make sure they were alone. "It's everything with everyone. Everything's gone downhill since March and I don't know which way is up. Something is seriously fishy with Trish and Christian because I've seen Trish when she doesn't know I'm looking and that girl looks absolutely destroyed. And when those two are off camera, the flirting and the sexy looks all fade away and there's this different aura about them. I don't know what's going on but I've caught Stacy slipping into Trish's locker room every now and then and I've seen Christian talking to Edge every once in a while and they seem ok."  
  
She shook her head, absently trailing her hand to his chest, dancing her fingers over his abdomen, not even noticing the way his body twitched at her affectionate stimulus. "And Chris had been an absolute mess. Something must have happened because one week he's this fuming arrogant mad man and the next he's back to the lost little puppy. I thought he'd gotten over her and then ... poof ... he's moping. Well, not really moping, he's more determined than that. But still, something's so different. He's like a different person."  
  
She sighed. "Stacy's been hanging around Edge a lot and I think it's sweet the way they've been getting along. They aren't together or anything but there's just this ... I don't know, maybe they are together but no one knows. Lita is ... God, I don't know what happened to her. Matt saved face and Lita is trapped with that Kane and nobody knows what it is she promised to do but she's been acting weird. She hasn't spoken to really anyone in a long while and her ... she just seems so lost. God, I wouldn't be surprised if she went back to the drugs. Rumor has it that Jeff hasn't talked to her since a few weeks after Wrestlemania. Jesus, Rocky, everything's falling to hell and I'm watching my friends all spiral out of control."  
  
"Shhh," The Rock hushed, pulling the shuddering woman against his chest, hugging her tightly, and rocking gently to still her cries. "Shhh, it's all right. You and I are going to get to the bottom of this and we're going to make everything right and everything is going to be fine."  
  
She sniffled, easing back from him to look up at his face. "Do ... do you mean that?"  
  
Rock smiled, his familiar bright smile, warm and gentle in his care with her. "Of course, The Rock means that."  
  
Her eyes narrowed in mock anger. "And what did I tell you about using the third person with me now. Cut it out or I'll be forced to take drastic action."  
  
Flirtatiously, he cocked his head, his hands splayed across her back as he caressed her. "And what exactly do you think that you could do to The One and only trail blazin', eye brow raisin', kiss stealin', pie eatin' People's Champion, The Rock."  
  
"Well," Lillian huffed. "I'll just be forced to give you the best kiss of your life, Mister. That's just what I'll have to do."  
  
"Oh," he responded. "Well, far be it from The Rock to deny such a thing from a beautiful lady."  
  
She smiled, lifting onto her toes and brushing her lips over his. "I'm going to get every other Hollywood woman out of your mind. And then you'll be spoiled. And you'll have to have only ... me."  
  
Lillian captured his lips, shoving him against the wall. He quickly responded, kissing her with a fierce intensity as he felt desperately at the wall behind him, finding the door handle. With a quick turn, he opened the door and the pair fell to the floor inside that locker room, wrapped in each other's arms.

* * *

Trish Stratus nervously licked her lips, pausing outside of Edge's locker room. Her hand raised, she dared to knock, though her nerves tried to convince her other wise. But she had to speak to him, to someone ... anyone who would listen. She knocked.  
  
After some moments of scuffling and rustling, the door opened. A wide-eyed Stacy Keibler stood against the frame, her lips down-turned in a frown. "Trish?"  
  
"Stace, I ..."  
  
Stacy didn't hesitate. She grabbed her friend's arm, pulling the distraught petite blonde into the locker room. Quickly Stacy brought a finger to her lips. "Shhh." She hushed then pointed across the way.  
  
Edge gave a small wave, holding the cell tightly to his ear. "Look ... I know ... I know, but you've got to listen to me. ... ... Please just consider it. We all need you here." Edge sighed, pressing a hand into his eyes then raking the blonde fibers out of his sight. "I know. And I can only imagine what this whole thing feels like but ... God damn it, would you just listen to me for one moment?"  
  
Trish sucked her lower lip into her mouth, jittery at the tone from the tall man.  
  
Edge shook his head. "None of that shit matters, ok? You've just got to see past that and realize that there's more here at stake than just you. There're more people hurting here than just you and we all need you here. Whether you're stable or not makes no difference in my book and ... Would you let me finish? Jesus, Matt and Lita both could use you here. Because Jericho, Benoit and I can't look out for them all the time."  
  
Trish closed her eyes at the mention of Jericho's name. Even hearing his name brought her pain, guilt of what she'd done.  
  
"Please," Edge begged. "I'm begging you. Tr ... Don't you fucking say that about her. You don't know anything so don't be passing judgment. ... Jeff, listen to me."  
  
Trish's eyes bolted open and she rushed towards Edge, her gaze hopeful as she reached desperately for the phone.  
  
With a defeated sigh, the tall blonde handed over the cell.  
  
Anxious, Trish licked her lips. Clearing her throat, she brought the cell to her ear. "J ... Jeff?"  
  
There was silence on the other end of the phone. His deep breaths could be heard, steady and rhythmic though he spoke no words.  
  
"Jeff? Please ... are ... are you still there?"  
  
"What did you do to Edge?"  
  
The harsh abrasiveness of his voice scratched at her heart and Trish had to swallow her tears. "I didn't do anything. He's right here. He ... He gave me the phone. Christian and Tyson aren't here tonight. I ... I'm all alone and Edge ..."  
  
"What?" Jeff snarled. "You decided to see if you could offer your services to him? Well, I think you'll be surprised, Trish, when he throws you out on your whorish ass."  
  
"Stop it!" Trish pleaded into the phone. "Stop it, don't say such things."  
  
"Why? Because they're true? Because you can't bear hearing the truth?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Don't toy with me," Jeff said, his voice laden with intensity and betrayal. "Haven't you done enough toying with men's hearts? Or do you need another for your conquests?"  
  
"No, please ..."  
  
"Do my words bother you, Trish? What if I were to call you a selfish two- bit whore who never deserved Chris or his affection? What if I tell you that you never deserved the love that Lita and I willing gave to you as our friend?"  
  
"Jeff ..."  
  
"I defended you!" He cried, the receiver crackling with his volume. "I defended you throughout your career. Lita and I were there for you every step of the way. Anything you needed, you only had to ask and it was there. You were family to us. And what you did to her ... that's not cool, Trish. We are not cool now. Not anymore."  
  
"Jeff, please. I ... Let me explain."  
  
"Explain what? Explain how you made sure that Chris was madly in love with you and then toss him to the side like an unwanted hunk of meat? How you rubbed it in Chris's face about your relationship ... the names you called him? Or maybe, you'd like to explain your actions with Lita. Was that a joke to you, Trish? Was Chris a joke?!"  
  
"No, it's not like that." Trish whimpered, her eyes closed to force the tears back.  
  
"I don't want to hear any explanation you'd give." Jeff said, coolly. "Tell Edge that I'll think about what he said. Goodbye, Trish."  
  
The tears pricked from her eyes as the dial tone screamed obnoxiously in her ear, his words ringing hauntingly.  
  
"Sweetie," Stacy cooed, stepping up to the other woman and enveloping her in her arms. "Shhh. There, there."  
  
Trish shook her head, letting her hand drop from her ear as she fisted the cell phone in her hand.  
  
"Here, Honey." Edge said, softly, taking the cell phone from her hand and clicking it shut. "It'll be ok."  
  
But Trish only shook her head again, pushing back from Stacy and wiping the tears furiously from her eyes. "I ... I need you to ... to do something for me."  
  
"Anything," Stacy whispered and Edge stood behind her, his hand protectively on the leggy woman's waist. Her smile was warm and comforting, friendly. "Name it."  
  
"I need ... I need you to check on Chris for me."  
  
Confused, Stacy cocked her head. "Chris? Whatever for?"  
  
Trish swallowed her nerves and the lump in her throat. "He ... he landed awkward on the way over the ropes and ... his ... his knee hit those stairs and he was clutching it and it was his bad knee and I just have to know if he's ok. I ... I have to."  
  
"Why don't you go talk to him?" Edge suggested.  
  
Trish's eyes widened. "What? No ... no, I couldn't do that."  
  
"Why not?" Edge shrugged, looking at Stacy a moment before his eyes locked on Trish again. "There's nothing to lose."  
  
"I can't." Trish said, quickly, her words tumbling over the last. "I can't. I just can't. Because I could never go in there and I don't know what to do and I ..."  
  
"Trish," Stacy interrupted, placing a comforting hand on the other woman's shoulder. "It's ok. I'll go talk to him. You can even stand outside the door and listen for yourself so you can make sure he's ok."  
  
Trish nodded, her eyes on the ground. "Thank you."  
  
Stacy grabbed her friend's hand, leading her from the locker room and down the hall. Trish followed wordless as they weaved down the dark corridors of the arena. One way then the next, eventually they came upon Chris's room. Stacy stopped, a moment, controlling herself before walking right in.  
  
Trish's eyes flew open as the door swung shut.  
  
"Chris fucking Jericho, what in the holy hell do you think you're doing flying over the top rope like that? Are you trying to give me a heart attack? I nearly pulled Nidia's arm right out of the damn socket."  
  
Trish moved quickly, leaning against the door to listen.  
  
Chris laughed. "Jeez, Stace. You don't talk to me for weeks and all of a sudden you're worried?"  
  
"Of course I'm worried, you imbecile. I never stopped caring even though I was scared to death of you."  
  
"Yeeeeah. About that. Look Stace. I ... I am so sorry about that. I just let things spiral out of control and ..."  
  
"Don't worry about it. All is forgiven on my end."  
  
"And on Edge's?"  
  
Stacy's voice tinged with her smile. "Well, he'll take a little longer but I'm sure I can convince him."  
  
"That sounds good. I'll work my ass off to do that. Lord knows, I don't need anymore enemies."  
  
"You and me both." There was a long pause. "How's your knee?"  
  
"Good God, woman, don't touch it!" Chris hollered. "Jesus, what are you trying to kill me? Do you know what you're doing? Hey ... wait, Stace. I didn't mean to yell. I'm just ... I'm a little antsy that's all."  
  
"I wasn't walking away from you, idiot. I was grabbing another icepack. And to answer your question ... No, I don't know what I'm doing. But in my book, if it's swollen ... ice it."  
  
"Sounds like a plan ... you know ... with the exception of ... certain ... parts."  
  
Stacy giggled. "So dirty, Chris. So ... how you holding up?"  
  
Chris hissed. "Ah ... God, that fucking stings."  
  
Trish resisted every urge to rush through that door and check on him. Her heart beat wildly with her racing nerves and her mouth ran dry.  
  
"What stings?"  
  
"The stairs. They broke skin on my knee. Here ... help me pull this tight leg up a bit so ... ... yeah, there we go."  
  
"Mother of God," Stacy sighed, frustrated. "You fucking men and your injuries. If it isn't the head it's the knee or the neck or the elbow."  
  
"Don't forget groin. That is a very important part of the body."  
  
Trish wiped her hands on her pants. Blood? There was blood? How bad was it? Where? How badly did it hurt? Was his head ok? How did his eyes look? Was he worn and tired or was his hair tangled from the match? Was he slightly glistening with sweat or was he fairly dry?  
  
"Anyway!" Stacy giggled. "Back to my question. How are you?"  
  
"Stace ... look in my eyes." There was a moment of silence. "How do you think I am?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Chris." Stacy breathed. "Anything keeping your mind at ease?"  
  
"Oh God," Chris laughed. "Funny story ... are you ready for this? So there was this girl ..."  
  
Trish pulled away from the door, quickly walking down the hall. She didn't want to hear about that. She didn't want to hear anything about any girl or anything they did. The thought of Chris sleeping with Lita still churned the raging passionate jealousy within her and she found it hard to restrain those emotions.  
  
In a way, that jealousy accounted for her actions with Lita. She knew it was mean and cruel but she couldn't help it. Lita slept with her man. Granted, he wasn't completely hers ... well, in that not at all kind of way. But that was irrelevant. The point was that Lita still slept with Chris.  
  
And Trish couldn't bring herself to feel bad about the way she'd been teasing Lita. First, Chris. And now she's back to Matt? Well, that's her loss. If Lita wanted to return to that two time lying son of a bitch, then she could. Trish didn't care.  
  
She shook her head. That was a lie. Trish cared, probably too much.  
  
"There's that sexy lady."  
  
Trish gasped, turning quickly at the voice and her eyes widened. "D ... Drew?"  
  
Test smiled, sinisterly. "You should remember my name. I made you scream it more than once." He inched closer.  
  
"You stay away from me." Trish commanded in a shaky voice, pinning herself against the wall.  
  
Test chuckled. "Ah, I have you trained so well. You just put yourself right where I want you."  
  
She swallowed hard, desperately searching the hallway for someone ... anyone. "Someone!" she called. "Help me, please!"  
  
"No one is gonna hear you, much less come to your aid." Test answered with a sneer and he moved closer to her, one large hand reaching out to grab her wrist. "Don't you remember, Trish? You're the town whore now."  
  
Trish squirmed. "No ... don't."  
  
"Aww, already moving." Test stepped closer, flush against her. "Are you already wet for me too?"  
  
Trish's heart raced, her breathing fast and she did the only thing she could think of. He was too close for her to move, she had to get free. Turning her head, she bit down on his hand, hard. She could taste the coppery tinge of blood in her mouth and she released him.  
  
But Test didn't let her go. Instead, his hand wrapped around her neck and he squeezed. "That wasn't very nice, whore." He tilted his head. "I was considering being gentle with you, since you are a loose whore and all."  
  
Trish viciously shook her head, squirming under his hold, gasping for much needed air. "No," she whimpered. "Please ... please don't."  
  
"Now, I asked you a question. I asked you if you ... were wet for me." Those words said, his one hand stayed place on her throat, the other attacking her jeans and quickly unfastening them, shoving them down her legs. "There's my pretty little whore. That's what you're used to. Your pants around your ankles and me ... right here between your legs."  
  
"No, no no." Trish cried, her tears streaming as her eyes glazed over flashing with the present and images of the past. "God, help me. Please, God. Oh God, please."  
  
His thick clumsy fingers toying with the top of her panties, he snickered. "What makes you think that God gives two shits about a cheap whore like you?"  
  
Trish squeezed her eyes shut, the tears free falling and she prepared herself for the trauma. The trauma that she wished to never experience again, to never have forced on her. She prepared herself as she did countless times before in the same situation with this same man.  
  
Her eyes flew open and she gasped for air when his presence was gone and she fell to the floor on her hands and knees, desperate for air. Forcing her gaze up, she needed to know what happened; her eyes must have deceived her.  
  
Chris Jericho grabbed Test by the head, ramming the other man's skull into the opposite cement wall. As Test staggered back, Chris let out a loud roar before slamming a steel chair over the big man's head, denting the chair seat in his violent viciousness.  
  
Trish swallowed hard, watching as Chris dropped the chair to his side. His hair ruffled, his clothes disheveled. He appeared to be unready, as if interrupted and ... could he have heard her and come to her aid?  
  
Chris roughly raked the hair from his eyes, his gaze ablaze and filled with passion as he leaned over the semi-conscious man. Jericho pinched her attacker's cheeks. "Look at me, you son of a bitch." He commanded in an almost possessed voice. "If I ever ... and I mean ... Ever ... catch you forcing anything from her again."  
  
Test gurgled something then smiled. "What?" he murmured. "All she is ... is a good ... cunt fuck ... and you know it."  
  
"Wrong answer." Jericho growled, soccer kicking the man hard in the stomach. Test recoiled at the action, coughing and Chris kicked again, even harder. "Very ... wrong ... answer." Two more abdomen kicks and Jericho pinched Test's cheeks again, forcing the eye contact.  
  
Test moaned, his head wobbling as he stayed conscious ... barely.  
  
"Now, we're going to start this again." Jericho said, intensely angered. "If I ever see you even looking at her in a way that I feel is ... inappropriate ... I'll take your fucking eye out. If I catch you touching her in a way she doesn't want to be touched ... I'll break your fucking hand. If I catch you putting your mouth on her in any way ... I'll rip out your tongue. And if I catch you doing anything else ... I'll break your god damned neck." Chris cocked his head one way then the next. "Did you ever see Pulp Fiction, Drew? You know ... the movie."  
  
Test swallowed hard.  
  
"Well, let me tell you about that movie." Chris explained. "You see ... there's a part in that movie that involves a rape. Do you remember that part?"  
  
Test shook his head.  
  
"Oh," Jericho smiled. "Then let me remind you." Chris dropped to his knee, his face inching towards Test as his voice lowered with rage. "In that scene, there's a man ... raping another man. And that person who's being raped ... he really doesn't want to be raped. He is big ... and angry ... and very ... very insane. Now Bruce Willis ... interrupts this rape ... and that big ... angry ... man is freed. Do you know what happens next?"  
  
Test shook his head again.  
  
"I'll tell you." Chris continued. "You see that big ... angry ... man is not too happy with the fact that he was raped. So as he and Bruce Willis are eyeing the rapist ... The angry ... insane man ... takes a shotgun ... and blasts off that rapists balls, cocks, groin ... that whole region." He inhaled, sadistically. "Ah, it was a beautiful moment. Do you know what this has to do with you?"  
  
Test shook his head.  
  
"You see ... what you do to her ... you do to me." Chris said slowly and carefully. "So if you rape her ... then you rape me. And you know what ... I don't like being raped. I figure from this confrontation ... you can probably tell that I'm very ... very angry ... and quite insane. Do I make myself ... perfectly ... clear?"  
  
Test gave a quick nod, swallowing his fears.  
  
"Good," Jericho snarled, straightening up and letting his eyes fall on his one time love.  
  
Trish couldn't keep the tears from her eyes or the shakes from her body. Her arms wrapped around her knees, hugging her legs to her chest. Test coughed, curling into his side and Chris kept his eyes focused on her little body.  
  
He cocked his head, his eyes locked on hers. Flaring with rage, passion and anger that he kept controlled, he watched her rock back and forth, gathering herself. He didn't move, didn't speak, simply gave her the time she needed.  
  
Swallowing hard, Trish held his eyes, unable to stand or even find the strength to move from her position yet. Her eyes open books; she couldn't look away.  
  
In that moment, Chris could see something, some type of understanding. He knew there was nothing left for him here, that he had to walk away and resist those urges to step over her fallen attacker, wrap her in his arms and coo in her ear until everything was alright. He had to resist that urge, the yearning desire to protect her and comfort her in that way. She was not his to comfort in that way anymore. And despite the moment, the very moment that lingered forever between their eyes, Chris still knew he'd lost her. He knew that next week, the antic would continue and she'd be at Christian's side as if nothing had happened.  
  
He knew that again after he'd saved her from her nightmares, she'd run to the arms of another man for solace and comfort. She'd run away from him, away from the love he offered and the protection he willingly gave eternally to her. He didn't know what to expect, what she would do or how she'd react after this moment.  
  
One thing he knew and that was the rising dread in his stomach. The dread of knowing that this precious moment brought on by fear, loathing and trauma would end just as the last did. She would forget and deny his love to run into the arms of another man. Chris felt his heart shattering again, he felt the same knowing pains, the realization that she truly was never his and most likely never would be.  
  
The pain and rejection with Stephanie paled to the despair this single moment caved upon his heart. It was Wrestlemania all over again. Only this time, Chris knew what he was doing. Closing his eyes, he turned his back, walking away from the woman he loved.  
  
The tears pricked from his eyes with each passing step, every inch he journeyed from her ripped the warmth and hope from his body.  
  
He glanced back over his shoulder as Trish stumbled to her feet, her eyes on her fallen attacker. She quickly righted her pants, wiping the tears from her eyes before charging down the opposite end of the arena. In that instant, Chris felt the life drain from his body. The coming weeks would truly be a death sentence. He prayed for death. At least, it would alleviate his unbearable pain. All he could do was hope that something was righted next week. And maybe, just maybe he could hold his precious Trish again.  
  
(Nice long one. I'm thinking of continuing ... I mean, I could and there's still so much left to do. Review, let me know what you all think.) 


	9. May 24, 2004

Title: Endless Love  
  
Author: Crimson Coin CrimsonCoinyahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.  
  
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.  
  
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.  
  
Archiving: Ask me first.

* * *

May 24, 2004  
  
Chris Jericho clenched his teeth, squinting his eyes as he forced them open. A slight moan slipped from his lips.  
  
"Hey, Chris? Chris. Steady, buddy. Easy. Just don't move."  
  
He didn't recognize the voice and yet, didn't care. He shifted his weight only to be greeted by resistance. A hard board to his back, straps across his waist and arms, his neck immobilized.  
  
"No," Jericho groaned, squirming against the restraints. "No, let me go. Let me up."  
  
"You are in no condition to stand of your own will."  
  
"I AM in the condition." Jericho shouted, rocking himself on the board to the point where the trainers almost dropped him. "Let me up." He tugged hard on his wrist restraints, one tie snapping with his force and cutting into his skin in the process.  
  
The trainers quickly put the board down.  
  
"Take this off." Chris demanded. "Take it all off. I can walk on my damn own."  
  
The trainers struggled with him, trying their best to keep him still. "Chris, listen. You really shouldn't be ..."  
  
"I'll tell you what shouldn't be." Chris snapped back. "You assclowns restraining me when I'm perfectly capable of walking on my fucking own. THAT'S what shouldn't be!"  
  
Despite constant provoking and calming words, Chris wouldn't listen and eventually the trainers released him. The head trainer placed his large hand on Chris's shoulder. "The minute you feel something wrong ... see me. I mean that."  
  
Chris nodded. "Yeah, sure." Wasting no more time, he staggered down the hall. There was someplace he had to be. Around corners and through the darkest areas, he finally turned the last bend.  
  
He stopped.  
  
His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared as he let out a puffing breath. He could see them ... hear them. He just had to wait for his turn.

* * *

Trish Stratus sighed, placing her tiny hands on the bulging forearms of Tyson Tomko. "I swear, Sweetie. I'm going to be just fine. You go out with Chuck and the guys."  
  
Tyson cocked his head. "I just heard that Eric wants the whole roster to meet in the big locker room down the hall. Are you sure you'll be ok?"  
  
Trish nodded, smiling sweetly. "I swear it. There's no need to worry. I'm just going to gather my things and head back to the hotel. I'm going to call it an early night."  
  
"Ok," Tyson said with a smile of his own and he squeezed her smaller hand in his. "But you know where to reach me if anything's wrong. Christian would have my head if anything happened to you."  
  
"He's good to me like that." Trish answered. "Now go on. Get outta here and enjoy the night. We got a lot of traveling up coming with the European Tour."  
  
Tyson nodded, turning from her and taking his leave.  
  
Trish watched the big man's retreating form for a few moments before bowing her head, walking into her locker room.  
  
Chris moved quickly from his hiding place, catching the door before it swung close. He slammed it shut, turning the dead bolt lock. "What in the ..." But he let out a whimpered moan, reaching up to cup the back of his neck.  
  
Trish spun quickly, gasping at the sight of him. "Chris, I ..." she reached out but quickly withdrew her hand, stepping further back from him as she ducked her head.  
  
He let out a frustrated sigh, keeping his head bowed as he glared at her with half-lidded eyes. "Is this the thanks I get?" He gruffly growled. "Is this the gratitude you have to show me for what I did for you last week."  
  
She nervously licked her lips, her eyes unwavering from his angered gaze.  
  
"Please, tell me that you calling for help wasn't just some sick joke." He snarled. "And you were just using it as a come on for him. You know, cuz if it was ... then you're a real bitch."  
  
Trish closed her eyes at those words, swallowing the pain their utterance inflicted.  
  
"No, you know what Trish?" He hands dropped to his sides, his body straight as he looked at her though his eyes glistened with tears ... or was it pain from that powerbomb. "I was just stretching in my locker room ... getting ready to get dressed to go home and I hear your voice calling for help."  
  
Chris shook his head, laughing. "God knows, it coulda been a trap but I didn't care. I had to help you. I had to. And I went out there and I tore that fucking bastard limb from limb until he was pissing his pants. And you know why I did that? You know why I did that, Trish?"  
  
Trish shook her head.  
  
He narrowed his eyes, ducking his head closer to her. "It's because I'm still in fucking love with you, woman." He snarled in a deep husk. "It's because I couldn't listen to that fear in the voice of the woman I love and ..."  
  
Chris's eyes widened as his words were cut off by her lips. He didn't know what to do, how to react. She was kissing him. Trish Stratus was kissing him and he didn't know what to do. His body stiffened.  
  
Trish didn't care. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her lips dutifully wrapping around his as she licked and lapped at his lips until he was trembling and soon thrust her tongue into his mouth.  
  
Chris wanted to collapse. Lord, her kiss. It had been so long since he felt her kiss. He let his eyes close as he turned his head, leaning into her a bit. The action only spurred her and Trish hugged him closer, kissing him even harder as she lifted onto her toes.  
  
A low rumble vibrated deep within his throat and Chris band his arms around her, splaying his hands across her back. Pulling her closer, her couldn't resist. He intensified the kiss, driving it more passionately, harsher and deeper as he tried to lick and suck at every inch of her mouth. He didn't want to break it, he didn't want it to end. It was a dream. Sweeter than a dream. He'd dreamt of her kiss every night for the last seven months and finally she was kissing him.  
  
She broke the kiss aggressively, their lips snapping apart and Chris opened her eyes. He groaned at the sight. The passion, the need, the darkness in her beautiful eyes. It was the same look she'd shown him out on that stage before Tomko put him through the table. He couldn't identify the look out there but in here, with her so close and in his arms ... he could tell. It was desire. She desired him. She yearned for him.  
  
Trish licked her red kiss-swollen lips, her eyes unwavering from his as she cupped the front of his pants. He growled at her, bearing his teeth in an animalistic display of lust. She rubbed him forcefully then ran her hands up over his abs before slipping them down the front of his tights.  
  
Groaning his need, Chris couldn't resist. Grabbing her waist, he lifted her with ease, clearing the expanse of the locker room in three strides as he slammed her against the lockers, pinning her with his body. Her legs wrapped around his waist as their mouths crushed together, both equal in their eagerness.

* * *

Edge smiled, leaning back on the couch in his locker room. "I'm glad you're here, you know."  
  
Jeff chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, you appear to be the only one. I don't have anyone here anymore anyway. So it doesn't really matter."  
  
"Don't say that, Jeff." Stacy said, softly. "You can be here for me and Edge and your brother and Lita."  
  
"Ha!" Jeff laughed. "Oh please. My brother and Lita? They knew I was here and where'd they go? Where'd they go, huh? They don't care about me. It's just like it always was now all over again. Matt and Lita with Jeff tagging along. This is why I don't want to come back. Because not only am I just Matt's little brother. Now I'm Matt's drug addicted tag along little brother that don't belong anymore."  
  
"Oh, Jeff you didn't." Stacy sighed. "You went back to the drugs? You've been doing so good."  
  
"I can't help it." Jeff argued, throwing his hands in the air. "I ... I've had my reasons."  
  
Edge stretched his back, placing an arm over the back cushion of the couch. "Just because the woman you love don't love you that way is no reason to go fucking around with drugs."  
  
"I know," Jeff answered, plopping down in the opposite couch and with a groan he leaned to the side, his head hitting the cushion as his rainbow hair fanned out across the green upholstery. "And it's not an excuse and I'm not trying to make excuses."  
  
Stacy smiled. "You really are the cutest man."  
  
Jeff's brow rose, though from his angle, his eyebrows buried into the cushion. "Why is that? Anyway, aren't you supposed to think your little boy toy is the cutest thing in the world?"  
  
Stacy blushed and Edge chuckled. "Nah. We're not dating. I'm not her boy toy."  
  
Jeff smiled. "Suuuure, you aren't."  
  
"Shut up, man." Edge demanded though his voice held little conviction since he laughed. "We are not an item so stop teasing. We just chill a lot."  
  
"Like the way you're chilling now?" Jeff asked. "You know with your arm around her shoulder."  
  
The couple quickly pushed apart and Jeff's laughter filled the room. "Ah, God damn. I really wish things weren't so messed up." He shook his head, the room falling quiet with his pause. "I miss Trish. God, why did she have to go and ... why'd she do it, Edge?"  
  
Edge and Stacy shared a knowing glance before returning their attention to the youngest Hardy. Edge sighed. "Look, Jeff. I ... I'm not so sure you should be passing judgment on her. I mean, there's a lot you don't know. Hell, there's a lot we don't know."  
  
"Pass judgment?" Jeff inquired, sitting straight. "You've seen what she's been doing these last few weeks."  
  
"There's so much more." Stacy defended, quickly. "You don't know. I mean ... this whole thing is so terrible and it's not fair. It ... it's not fair."  
  
"Shhh," Edge hushed, running a gentle hand along Stacy's arm. "It's ok, Hun. Just breathe."  
  
Jeff furrowed his brow. "What ... what's going on?"

* * *

Chris collapsed, falling heavily against Trish's body, his full weight against her as he kept her pinned against the lockers. His breathing ragged, his heart racing, he licked his lips, burying his head in the crook of her neck. She was in the same condition, glistening with sweat, her body still twitching with the rocking aftereffects of orgasm.  
  
He swallowed hard, nuzzling her throat a moment before stilling, trying to regain his breath. He rocked his hips slowly, pressing himself further into her just so she knew he was still there and still very much aware. She let out a little whimper and then tightened her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.  
  
Chris pursed his lips, kissing her neck sweetly, affectionately. Keeping his actions slow and sincere, he kissed up her throat, higher and higher. Over her jaw and along her cheek, he sealed their lips, twining his tongue into her mouth to tangle passionately yet affectionately with hers.  
  
Constant, insistently loving, he kissed her as deeply and slowly as he could before his breath ran out and he breathed the sweet air from her lungs before pulling back. He trailed his lips along her cheek, nose, then finally back to her ear where he placed a long wet kiss.  
  
Trish shuddered in his arms, tightening her own arms around his neck, holding him in place.  
  
"Trish," he breathed into her ear. "Trish, did you ever sleep with Christian?"  
  
She shook her head.  
  
"Tomko?"  
  
She shook her head again.  
  
Chris closed his eyes.  
  
Trish licked her lips, trembling in his arms. "You slept with Lita." She said softly, but harshly.  
  
"It was the biggest mistake of my life. Right next to letting you go. Oh God, Trish, why did I let you go? I ... I shoulda ... please, you've got to talk to me."  
  
But again, she shook her head. "Put me down." She commanded in a quiet voice and he reluctantly obeyed.  
  
His eyes remained drawn and sad as he tucked himself back into his tights. His eyes never left her naked form as she gathered her clothes, quickly pulling them on. She raked her fingers through her hair, straightening it best she could.  
  
"Trish," he breathed.  
  
Again, she viciously shook her head. "No ... No, this was bad. This ... This was a mistake. I didn't mean ..."  
  
He stepped forward quickly, grabbing her arm and turning her to face him. "Don't you say it," he cracked out. "Because it's not true. The way you kissed me and touched me ... don't you say that you didn't mean it or it was a mistake cuz that's not true."  
  
"Chris, I ..."  
  
"Look me in the eye then," he demanded. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't love me. That you didn't want to be with me like that."  
  
Trish closed her eyes, the tears coming. She was cornered, trapped. And she knew she couldn't get out.  
  
"Look at me."  
  
She forced her eyes open, locking on his. "You know I can't do that so why would you even ask me to?"  
  
Chris smiled, his lips curling upward in greatest fulfillment. "So if you love me ... then you can be with me."  
  
"No," Trish said, forcefully, stepping away from him. "I ... I can't. You ... you don't understand. This was a mistake. This ..."  
  
"No, it wasn't."  
  
"Yes, it was!" she yelled. "God damn it, Chris, I didn't want our first time to be like this. Like two sex crazed teenagers getting it on in the gym locker room, cutting class to get some ass. I didn't want it to be like that and ..."  
  
"But it wasn't." Chris answered. "It wasn't like that at all. I mean, it ... it wasn't just about sex to me. I ... I felt such passion and need and ... and I love you. I ... I still made love to you in the most primal way. Please, don't regret ... don't."  
  
"Don't," She said, reaching up and placing her fingers over his lips, silencing him. "Just stop. I ... I can't love you, Chris. I can't. There's ... there's so much between us and it's not ... it just can't happen. We have to pretend this didn't happen and I'm going to ... I'm going to attack you again. I'm going to make your life a living hell. That's what I have to do."  
  
"No, you don't." Chris said. "Please, you really don't. I'll protect you. You can be with me and we can be happy and ... and you can stop having your lackeys put me through tables. God, that fucking hurt." He slouched a bit, a hand on his lower back before laughing at himself. "I guess I didn't realize what an exertion we had."  
  
Trish shook her head, shoving him back by the chest. "Stop it. Just stop being so nice! I will get you to fucking hate me, Chris Jericho, if it's the last thing I do." She recoiled, whipping her hand back and then slapping him hard across the face.  
  
His head flew back, his cheek stinging from the impact as he brought a hand up, cupping the red mark she left, as his eyes grew wide and confused. "Trish?"  
  
"Hate me!" she demanded, slamming her fists into his chest and the tears poured down her face. "Hate me, God damn you, hate me!"  
  
He caught her wrist, holding her hands against his chest as his finger reached out, tilting up her chin. "I can't."  
  
Trish shook her head. "We ... we can't do this, Chris. I ... I have to hurt you. We can't be together because Tyson and ... and Bischoff and I have to keep them after you and I have to be this way."  
  
"No, you don't."  
  
"I do!" she insisted with a stomp of the foot. "We can't be together because I have to hurt you."  
  
Chris threw his hands in the air. "Beat me, slap me, kick me, bruise me, bleed me ... I don't fucking care as long as you sleep in my arms at night."  
  
Trish closed her eyes, turning her back on him as she ducked her face into her hands, the cries finally taking control of her body.  
  
"Baby," he cooed, stepping to her and taking her in his arms. She resisted. "Shhh, Darlin. Shhh, Baby." He hushed her and she stilled, caving into the relaxing touch he offered. "Shhh, oh Baby. What is it? Why can't we be together? If you didn't sleep with Christian and you've done nothing ... why are you acting this way? What happened?"  
  
"I can't tell you," she whispered, hiding in his chest.  
  
"Yes, you can." He said, cupping her face and wiping the tears from her cheeks.  
  
Trish shook her head then reached up, brushing the stray fibers of blonde hair away from his eyes. "Bischoff ... he ... you'll have a match against Tyson. I don't know when but I heard Bischoff talking about it. I ... I already asked Tyson to take it easy on you. I ... He thinks I want you to still be able to walk every week that way we can continue but, Good Lord, I don't want him to hurt you."  
  
"Then be by my side," he whispered. "Then nothing they do will hurt me."  
  
"Stop it." She snapped. "Just stop it already. It doesn't matter. Look, Chris, we can never see each other again. You ... you are going to hate me. I'm going to make you hate me and you're going to move on and you're going to find a wonderful girl who deserves you and you're going to get married and have loads of children and forget all about me and this whole stupid little thing."  
  
"Is that all this is to you? Some stupid little ... thing?" His voice rang with malice and betrayal.  
  
Trish swallowed her nerve, knowing what she had to do to get him away. She'd made a fatal mistake this evening. She'd already told him too much. "Yes. That's all this is."  
  
"Liar." He snarled. "You liar. Stop lying. What did Christian do to you? Did he ..."  
  
"Christian did nothing." She defended quickly. "He's done nothing but be sweet and caring with me. He's all that I have left."  
  
"You could have me," he responded, jealousy and sarcasm lacing his tone. "What, am I not enough?"  
  
Trish shook her head. "Jesus Christ, you're more than enough, Chris. But that's not it. I can't tell you, Ok. I ... I shouldn't even have said this much. Good Lord, God only knows what's going to happen now. I ... I have to leave." She pushed away from him, shouldering her duffel bag and walking to the door.  
  
Chris caught her by the arm, turning her to face him. "I'm not giving up on you, Trish Stratus." He pledged, his eyes blazing with emotions. "I've tasted too much. I know too much and I love you too God damned much." He leaned down, taking her lips preciously with his. "I'll get to the bottom of this."  
  
Trish closed her eyes a moment, gathering her courage before taking a step out of his grasp. "It's over, Chris. This was one final time. The moment I walk out of here ... I will act as if this didn't happen. And as far as I'm concerned ... this didn't happen. Goodbye. Find yourself ..." she swallowed. "Find yourself another girl. One who wants you the same way you want her. You were a good fuck, Jericho." That sexy sly smile spread onto her face and she did her best to make sure it didn't look forced. "I'm glad I added you to my list. You know, since ... well since Christian isn't here to keep me busy."  
  
Her heart broke as the rejection slammed itself onto his face and she quickly turned, running out the door. She had to get away. The tears sprung to her eyes and she just had to get away. She ...  
  
Trish gasped as a rough hand grabbed her arm and soon she found herself spun against the familiar hard chest, those crystal blue eyes staring holes through her. He didn't wait for her to react but simply crushed his mouth to hers in the most forceful passionate kiss he could manage.  
  
His mouth audibly breaking away from hers, he held her eye contact. "And still ... the way you kiss me says otherwise."  
  
Trish swallowed hard, a shaky hand coming up to her lips as she could feel his lingering moisture. Tears fell from her eyes as he walked away from her, his hands clutching his back and neck with each painful step. Oh, how she yearned to run to him, wrap him in his arms and apologize. To just hold him and let him hold her.  
  
Turning quickly, she rushed in the opposite direction. She didn't want to admit it. She couldn't admit her true feelings for their passionate encounter. If she did, it would tear her apart with the knowledge that yet again she let the love of her life walk away. And all because of that stupid tape that Eric had. God, how had he gotten his hands on it.  
  
Turning another corner, Trish wiped the tears from her eyes. And Chris. Poor Chris. He had no idea. He had no idea who she was and what he'd just done with her. He'd probably be sickened if he ever found out. But still, she couldn't get him out of her mind. His hands, his body, his mouth, Sweet Lord, his mouth. The way he kissed her sent sensations through her body that she'd never felt. The way his lips and his tongue would circle in her mouth and then along her neck and chest and shoulders before returning to her mouth again. She didn't want him to stop.  
  
It was love making. She knew it. She knew it the moment they began. The way he treated her, held her and entered her. The way he moved, the way he whispered sweet whispers of nothing in her ear as he rocked sensation after pleasurable sensation from her body. Just thinking of how beautiful the experience, she wanted to run back to him and kiss him again. To kiss him and kiss him until he responded with as much vigor and need that he would make love to her all over again.  
  
Trish shook her head, barging into the locker room. "Stacy." She cried, weak in the knees and she looked around the room, her eyes widening at the sight. "Jeff?"  
  
Stacy and Edge jumped, their eyes locking on the blonde. "Trish?"  
  
Jeff Hardy stood slowly, walking to her at a steady pace. His eyes remained cold until he stood only one step in front of her. His pale green eyes instantly softened and he opened his arms, gathering her into them and against his chest with his hug.  
  
Trish collapsed, the comforting feeling that she'd yearned for so long finally returning to the most infinitesimal degree. She could feel his friendship, his compassion. She could feel her Jeff again.  
  
"Shhh," he hushed her.  
  
"Jeff," she whimpered, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. "Jeff, I ... I'm so lost."  
  
"Shhh," he silenced her, kissing her forehead lightly before pressing his cheek to the top of her head. "It'll be alright. Just tell me what happened."  
  
Trish sniffled. How in the hell could she ever tell her friends what had just happened?  
  
(So ends another chapter ... so are the days of our wrestling. I'm still planning on continuing but as always it depends on reviews. I write because I know people read. So let me know you're reading. ) 


	10. May 31, 2004

Title: Endless Love  
  
Author: Crimson Coin CrimsonCoinyahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.  
  
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.  
  
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.  
  
Archiving: Ask me first.

* * *

May 31, 2004  
  
Jeff Hardy laughed, pointing at the screen in Edge's locker room. "Oh, she's good. She's real good."  
  
Edge smiled. "Isn't she? I mean, I never thought Trish would be the one to cut a great heel promo, but she's just so good on that mic. Frogs? Jezebel?"  
  
Jeff crossed his arms around back of his head, leaning down on the couch. "Well, of all the people JR ever called jezebel, Trish is probably the only one that really is a jezebel. Her character is, at least." Stretching, Jeff turned his eyes from the television to Edge. "So, I hear you and Stacy had a little tiff."  
  
"We didn't have a tiff." Edge said, defensively.  
  
Jeff smiled. "I hear ... that you said something to her about all the photo shoots and how provocative she's been in them and that you don't like that. And then I heard that she told you to go scratch."  
  
Edge glared. "You certainly hear a lot, don't you?"  
  
Jeff shrugged. "What can I say? People love to talk to me."  
  
Edge smiled, almost sinisterly. "Talk to Lita?"  
  
Jeff's eyes narrowed, his body tightened. "That's below the belt."  
  
"Well, so is Stacy."  
  
The two sat in silence a long while following that comment. Eventually, Trish's segment ended and Jeff looked back to Edge. He cocked his head. "Wanna go get hammered?"  
  
Edge's grin spread happily from ear to ear. "I was just thinking the same thing."  
  
Jeff stood as Edge gathered his things. "Only this time, please don't go pimping me off to whatever flamboyant creep that makes a pass at me. I'm not gay. I don't know why people think I am. I'm not."  
  
Edge chuckled. "Maybe this time, when he hits on you ..."  
  
"WHEN!"  
  
"Of course when," Edge responded. "Cuz you know they will."  
  
Jeff groaned.  
  
Edge zipped his bag. "When they hit on you, just find some random chick and screw her brains out right in front of them. Then they'll know."  
  
"You know," Jeff smiled. "If I'm drunk enough, I just might take you up on that."  
  
Edge patted his back pocket. "And my cell has the camera built in ... just in case."

* * *

Chris Jericho gritted his teeth, an arm wrapped around his waist as he staggered up the ramp of the arena. Every step hurt. Every move hurt. He took a breath; it hurt. More and more it seemed that all he'd been doing lately was hurting. That's all his life had been. One cycle of pain after another. If only he hadn't gone out there in October of last year to ... October of last year. Had it already been that long?  
  
Chris shook his head. He couldn't believe that it was seven months since he charged down that ramp to rescue Trish and every moment since had been a circle of pain. Was it even worth it?  
  
"Of course it was." Jericho openly scolded himself before realizing he said that out loud. Ignoring the curious glances from some of his fellow wrestlers, he continued down the hall at a slow pace. He shook his head in a vain attempt to clear his thoughts. Wincing, he rounded the final corner and slipped into his locker room.  
  
He didn't even bother looking around, simply stumbled across the room and plopped down on the couch. He hissed at the impact, a shaky sigh escaping his lips as he closed his eyes, rotating himself and lying on his back. "Fucking A-" he swore to himself. "Ok, just breathe. Relax. ... Ok, yeah. Hurts to breathe. Bad idea."  
  
"Why did you come out there?"  
  
Chris jumped, his eyes flying open in fright, but the movement too fast and his face contorted in pain. "Fuck," he breathed, falling back on the couch, his head tilted back.  
  
Trish sighed, closing her eyes at the sight of him. She walked to the door, flicking the lock before turning to him again, crossing her arms as she gazed past him to a far upper corner of the room. "Why'd you do it, Chris? I told you what I'd have to do. You ... you shoulda just stayed back here."  
  
"You knew I was here." He said through clenched teeth. "You knew I was here. So why did you say that I wasn't?"  
  
"So you didn't come out there." She answered, angrily. "That way maybe you'd get the clue to stay the hell away. But no. No, you have to be stubborn and valiant or whatever the hell you were thinking and walk down there despite your injuries just to prove me wrong. Sometimes ... sometimes you're so stupid, Chris."  
  
Chris smiled, a soft chuckle on his voice. "Yeah, I certainly am. But like I've always told you. It's part of my charm."  
  
"This isn't funny." She said, walking towards him. He flinched slightly but she only sighed, closing her eyes a moment at the sudden rejection she felt. "I'm not going to hurt you. There're no cameras in here." She knelt at his side. "But like I was saying. This really isn't funny."  
  
"You know what was funny though?" He opened his eyes, the warmth and affection most prominent in his gaze. "What you said out there. It was absolutely golden. The J.R. cracks were ingenious and the fact that you called my Jeritron 5000 the Stratustron was even better. You ... you really know what you're doing out there, with this whole act you're putting on."  
  
Trish ducked her head. "Chris, don't. Don't say such things."  
  
"But I'm right." He said quickly, reaching out to grab her hand. "I'm right. It is all an act. I can tell. If it wasn't an act then you wouldn't be here right now. But look, here you are."  
  
She didn't react to his statement but only looked up and away from him, attempting to compose herself. "Don't go there, Chris. Do not go there. It doesn't matter."  
  
"It does." He insisted. "It does matter. It matters because I still care. God damn it, woman, why can't you see that. Don't you think I'm smart enough to know that I could just stay in the back. That I could ignore your every insult and your every taunt and nothing would happen to me."  
  
Trish turned her head, looking back over her shoulder to avoid his eyes.  
  
But he would have none of that. Chris hooked a finger under her chin, forcing her to look in his eyes. Reluctantly, she obeyed. "Don't you know that I could have stopped this at any moment and just let you and Christian taunt without me responding? I could have done that. But I didn't want to. I want to come out there. I want you to taunt me. I want you to have your boys kick my ass."  
  
"Why?" She asked, softly. "Why, Chris?"  
  
Clenching his teeth, he sat up, inching closer to her. "Because that way I still have your attention." He covered her mouth with his.  
  
His kiss so soft, tender and sweet, Trish shuddered at the sensation. Overwhelmed by this display of affection, she felt her throat clench, her body shaking. He was too much to handle. Reaching up, she cupped his face, easing him back. "Chris."  
  
"Don't push me away," he said in a gruff whisper, the strings of saliva and moisture still damp between their lips. "Don't push me away." He sealed their lips again.  
  
Trish sighed, caving into him as her fingers tickled his cheeks then raked back through his hair. But as soon as she returned his kiss, she shook her head, pushing him back again. "No, don't."  
  
Chris swallowed hard, pressing his forehead to hers. "Why? It feels right. I know you feel it to. Be with me."  
  
"I can't," Trish said quickly, placing her fingers over his lips to keep him back. "I've hurt you, Chris. I've ... the second week in a row and look at your ribs and you ... you can't kiss me like that."  
  
"I told you last week." Chris said through a breath. "I don't care what you do to me as long as you're with me." He pulled her hands down, kissing her.  
  
She let out a whimpered moan yet still refused to kiss him back. She placed her hands on his chest, shoving him back forcefully. "Stop it!" she demanded though her voice shook with weakened tears. "Don't kiss me like that. Don't ... don't kiss me like that."  
  
"Why?" he asked, his eyes ablaze for her.  
  
"Don't look at me," Trish scolded, ducking her head. "Don't look at me or kiss me or touch me or anything like that. Just ... just don't."  
  
Chris sat up roughly, his one arm wrapping around her waist while the other cupped her chin, forcing their eyes to meet. "Why?" he breathed, the warm moistness of his breath brushing over her face.  
  
Trish swallowed hard, her eyes locked on the ice blue of his. She licked her lips before speaking in a whisper matching his. "Because when you do ... I can't resist you."  
  
Chris smiled, tightening his arms as he pulled her across his body, laying her at his side and hovering over her. "Then don't resist." He said.  
  
She stopped him before he kissed her. "But your ribs. And what I've done. We can't. Chris, this is wrong."  
  
He shook his head. "No, it's not. And I don't give two damns about my ribs. If this is what I have to endure to hold you, then so be it. I'll put myself through this every God damned week."  
  
"Chris ..."  
  
He covered her lips with his hand, silencing her before gently stroking her cheek and tucking the stray hair behind her ear. "No more thinking. No more worries. Only me ... and you."  
  
She whimpered. "I ..."  
  
"No more." He said quickly but far from harsh. "No more. Who cares about Bischoff or Tomko or JR or the fans or anything else outside this room. The doors are closed and it's only Trish and Chris ... the way we both want it to be."  
  
Trish tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling his head to her. And this time, she kissed him with fiercest passion leaving no doubt in his mind of how she felt.

* * *

Eric Bischoff smiled that sly grin as he eyed his apprentice. "So tell me again. You say you saw ..."  
  
Johnny smiled just as sly. "Trish Stratus enter Chris Jericho's locker room. And from the sounds of things, they weren't exactly arguing."  
  
"Hmmm," Eric tapped his fingers against his chin. "It looks like our little vixen isn't what she's playing to be."  
  
Johnny nodded. "Just breathe the word, sir, and that tape will find itself into Jericho's possessions."  
  
Taking a few moments to think, Eric finally nodded. "Make it so. And who knows ... maybe next week, Jericho will have a change of heart."  
  
Shorter one this time, but that's ok. Tell me what you think. Moving along nicely, aye? Any ideas, anything you want to see, anything you notice. Review me, let me know and I'll see what I can do. 


	11. June 7, 2004

Title: Endless Love  
  
Author: Crimson Coin CrimsonCoinyahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.  
  
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.  
  
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.  
  
Archiving: Ask me first.  
  
June 7, 2004  
  
"Stacey, please." Edge begged, reaching out a quick hand to stop her.  
  
"Don't touch me." She demanded, squirming out of his grasp then turning cold eyes on him. "What, just because I put on the fake smile out there you have to think that all of a sudden things are OK between us?"  
  
"No," Edge said. "That's not it at all."  
  
She crossed her arms, leaning angrily into her hip. "Then what? What could you possibly tell me that could make this all better?"  
  
"I'm sorry." He said, softly, his voice barely above a whisper.  
  
Stacey closed her eyes, turning her head slightly away.  
  
He licked his lips, watching the emotions play across her lovely face. "I really am sorry. I never meant to offend you or appear bossy or controlling or anything." He chuckled, shyly, ducking his head to stare at his feet. "Ok, so maybe it was a bit over protective."  
  
"I don't need your permission to do photo shoots or go out into the ring and show the crowd my entrance or prance up and down the ramp if I wanted to. It's my choice. I can make those decisions."  
  
"I know." He answered. "I know that. And I'm sorry. Just ... just stop running away from me and let's ... let's just move past this."  
  
"Hey, guys."  
  
Stacey glanced over Edge's shoulder, spotting Chris Jericho walking towards them. She gave Edge a serious glance. "We'll finish this later." A smile spread onto her face as she let her eyes meet Chris's. "Hi. How are you?"  
  
"I've been better." Chris answered in a dead tone. "Do you think you guys can follow me? I've got something to show you."  
  
Edge looked worriedly at Stacey before both followed Chris down the corridor.

* * *

Trish smiled, placing the last of her belongings into her duffel bag. "I think I'm gonna tell him."  
  
"About what?"  
  
She turned, her eyes locking warmly on the youngest Hardy. "Chris. I think I'm gonna tell him everything. Everything that's been going on with Bischoff and what Christian and I are doing. Just everything."  
  
Jeff crossed the room, wrapping his arms around the tiny diva in a comforting hug. "That's great, Sweetie. I think you should. And don't worry. Chris will understand." He eased her back, cocking his head as he looked seriously in her eyes. "Are you going to tell him ... everything?"  
  
Trish shook her head, nerves rising clearly on her face. His question caught her off guard. "Of course not. I ... I can't tell him that. I can't tell him any of it. It ... it doesn't matter anyway. That was the past and ... and I'm better off forgetting it."  
  
Jeff sighed. "I know it's the past. And he can't be angry with you. It wasn't your fault. But he does deserve to know eventually. That way he at least understands. You want him to understand, don't you?"  
  
She gnawed on her lower lip, turning from his gaze to fiddle with her bag, acting as if she were doing something. "I don't want him to know that, Jeff. It ... it's not a comfortable subject ... for me."  
  
"I know." Jeff said, softly, his voice a southern sooth. "But I'm sure he'd like to know."  
  
"I was stupid for telling you."  
  
"Now, now." He pacified quickly, stepping behind her and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Have I judged you once because of it?"  
  
"No."  
  
"And do I treat you any differently?"  
  
"No."  
  
"And do I ever bring it up or press you about it?"  
  
"Well you are now."  
  
Jeff smiled. "Doesn't count this time, Sweetheart."  
  
Trish smiled, a little chuckled escaping her lips as she bowed her head. "Then no."  
  
"See?" His inflection, gentle and he turned her to look in her eyes. "Just promise me you'll think about it."  
  
Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, she nodded. "I promise that I'll think about it."  
  
"Good," Jeff said with a bright grin then grabbed her hand. "Now, come on. Let's go find Chris right now so you can tell him."  
  
"Sounds good." Trish answered, following him out the door.

* * *

Jeff paused once stepping inside Chris's locker room, Trish bumping into him from behind. He eyed the curious composure of all present, especially a strangely weak looking Chris Jericho. "Hey, guys. What's going on?"  
  
Chris focused his eyes on Jeff, never once looking at Trish. "Could you two sit here, next to Edge and Stacey. There's something important I have to show you all."  
  
Jeff grabbed Trish's hand, leading her across the way. Trish looked curiously at Chris and a sinking feeling pulled at her stomach when he avoided her gaze and turned towards the television set. Jeff sat Trish next to Stacey then squeezed in, watching the screen.  
  
Chris inserted the tape then pressed a series of buttons before moving out of the way.  
  
The tape crackled, a snowy screen of black and white flickered a few times before the picture cleared and Eric Bischoff appeared.  
  
_("Hi," Eric said then raised his hand. "Now now, don't be too hasty to turn this off.)  
_  
Trish shifted her weight, her eyes darting to Chris. Jericho leaned against the door, his head ducked and arms crossed over his chest. Nervous, Trish returned her eyes to the screen.  
  
_("I know what you are thinking, Chris." Eric said in his usual sly voice. "What is that slimy bastard up to now. Well, I assure you to only give me ... oh ... five to ten minutes of your time. That's all I need."  
_  
_Eric smiled his patented winning smile then leaned back casually on his desk. "I know that you and I aren't on the best of terms and despite that, let me just tell you how much I admire you, Chris. No, really." He placed a hand on his chest. "I do. It takes a lot of guts to do what you did to me, and I admire that. I don't like it. But I admire it."  
  
Eric paused a strategic moment before continuing. "And that is why I want to show you something. I want to show you the wise choice you made staying away from Trish Stratus.")  
_  
Trish felt her world collapse. Her throat clogged, she couldn't breathe. Her eyes glanced at Chris. He hadn't moved. This couldn't be happening.  
  
_("And that is why I wanted to ... put your heart to ease." Eric soothed. "I have to show you a collection of ... extravaganzas that your one time beloved has engaged in. Let me just ... find them here ...")  
_  
The screen faded out then back in. Eric continued to narrate in the background, explaining exactly what was happening in the picture.  
  
_("Let's see ... ah, first and foremost we have this. The year, 2000. The place, Vince McMahon's office." The film was a scattered security tape. "And here we see Trish with Vince McMahon. Ooooo, does she kiss her mother with that mouth? Hope you didn't kiss her too much there, Chris? You could catch something.")  
_  
Trish felt tears well up in her eyes. "No," she breathed. "Not this way." She shuddered when Jeff grabbed her hand, squeezing comfortingly.  
  
_("And if you watch carefully ... yes, there it is. Shane entering from behind. If you catch my drift." Eric cleared his throat. "Moving on. We have a parking garage. And what do we see but none other then our lovely Trish with ... hmm, who is that?")  
  
"Oh God," Trish choked out, ducking her head.  
  
(Eric laughed. "I see who it is. Albert. Next video ... Test.)  
_  
With each name, a new video came on, showing the naughtiest of naughties. No shame, no decency. Acts of such animistic fervor that no man could watch without blushing.  
  
_(Eric's songy voice continued to name the partner through each intimate video. "What's this? Oh what is this juicy tidbit here? I see Trish and two men. Never knew Hunter and Shawn Michaels were into that. Well, they seem to be very into Trish at this moment." He laughed at his own joke.  
  
"Ah, sometimes I just kill myself." He said. "Hmm, they're just as active with each other as they are her. Who's next ... Val Venis ... Rob Van Dam ... that looks like Charlie Haas to me. Guess she gets busy at the pay per views too. John Cena, and here's about 6 random men ... hmm ... ah, here's Christian from about 2001. Man, he's really giving it to her. Oh, there's so many. Let's skip ahead a bit. What else do we have here? Ah, here's something juicy."  
_  
_Eric chuckled. "Ah, it's Stephanie. Hmmm, March 2002. And who she with. Oh, that's Christian. Guess she didn't leave you for Angle like you thought, huh. Sorry about that Chris. It was a slip up. That wasn't supposed to be in there. Now, where were we?"  
  
The picture flickered a moment and finally an elevator cab appeared. One could hear the smile in Eric's voice. "Trish, the little darling couldn't even keep her legs closed in the elevator. Oh, but look who it is. Never knew Jeff Hardy had it in him.)  
_  
Jeff ducked his head, holding Trish's hand even tighter.  
  
_("There's so much more to show you, Chris. But I think you catch my drift. Needless to say, she wasn't too discreet with her meetings and there's so much more I haven't put on here. That's not to even say the porn videos I've found. It's a good thing you haven't screwed her yet, huh Chris. I mean nothing could be worse then being her 63rd lover. And that's only the ones that have been recorded.")  
_  
The tape flickered then faded into a sea of snow. No one responded in the room. There was deafening silence.  
  
Seconds. Minutes past and still nothing was said. Stacey leaned further against Edge, the man in his own state of mental shock. Jeff licked his lips, pushing to his feet and facing Chris. "Look, Chris. I ..."  
  
"What didn't you tell me?" Jericho's dead voice rang coldly through the room. "Why didn't you tell me, Jeff, that you did that? Why didn't you tell me you were fucking her?"  
  
Jeff glanced warily at his feet, his words stumbling over the last. "I ... I didn't think to ... I don't know. I mean ..."  
  
"Why didn't you TELL ME!" Chris slammed his clenched fist against the door, causing a loud boom to erupt.  
  
Jeff clenched his teeth, his eyes narrowing as he showed no hint of intimidation. "The whole company knew that Trish and I were seeing each other back in 2003. What, does it surprise you that we would have sex if we were seeing each other?"  
  
"In an elevator?" Chris growled. "What you couldn't wait to get back to the room? And no, I didn't know about you two being together. Not the whole company knew and it wouldn't make a fucking difference."  
  
Jeff smiled, sadistically. "What, you've never fucked a woman in the elevator before? Come on, it's an all time turn on for most people. The risk of getting caught at any moment. Oh, I'm sorry. You must not be man enough to make a girl cum in that amount of time. Come up ... short ... in that department, Chris?"  
  
Chris's eyes blazed as he charged the other man. "Why, you little shit."  
  
Jeff laughed, easily ducking out of the way and Jericho stumbled to regain his balance. "Sensitive issue for you, huh Jericho."  
  
"Hey, hey." Edge jumped up, his arms wrapping around Jericho's waist and holding the man back. "Easy. Easy, relax."  
  
Jericho pulled himself from Edge's grasp and turned his vicious cold eyes on Trish. The small woman shuddered under his gaze. "Filth." He snarled.  
  
Trish cringed, her shoulders slumping as she stepped back from him. Her head to the ground. "Chris, I ..."  
  
"Don't speak to me." He commanded in a loud voice, his hand slicing at the air as he turned his back on her. "I never want to hear anything come out of that mouth of yours again. Ever. Do you understand me!"  
  
Trish could only give a shaky nod, her shoulders violently convulsing in her attempt to refrain her tears. How could this happen? Just when she let herself open to him, when she finally trusted him again and like before, he turned on her like a rabid dog.  
  
Chris viciously shook his head, glaring at her. "I can't believe you. How many men did you fuck from October to now, huh? How many? How many were you screwing behind my back? You did fuck Christian and Tomko, didn't you? And you lied to me to get me to be your 63rd conquest. Well, how does if feel Trish? How does it feel to add me to the list?"  
  
Trish closed her eyes, every word he uttered destroying her.  
  
"Chris, shut up!" Edge snarled.  
  
But Jericho didn't listen. "Slut," he growled, his eyes blazing with infuriated anger, his stare accusatory as he snorted in disgust. "I can't believe I ever wasted a moment on you. Fool that I am for believing you a second time. For holding onto hope. Hah! Hope for what. I wonder what I caught from you. Any clues? Any symptoms I need to be looking out for?"  
  
Trish swallowed hard, her tear-glassed eyes meeting his. "Chris, I'm sorry."  
  
Anger fueling his system, he recoiled, backhanding her across the face. "Did I tell you to speak, Whore? Speak when you're spoken to. You should be used to an order like that."  
  
Trish stumbled back, a hand coming up to cup her struck cheek as her eyes flared with fear. He hit her. He ... he struck her. Shuddering, tears, ran down her cheeks.  
  
"You son of a bitch." Jeff snarled, pure rage surging through his system as he dove at Jericho, tackling the man to the ground.  
  
Trish ran from the room, charging down the hall and not waiting for anyone to follow her. She didn't want them to. Racing, the tears clouding her vision, she burst into her locker room then collapsed to her knees.  
  
A pair of large arms wrapped securely around her, helping her stand. She gave no effort and stayed limp, but he was persistent and lifted her to her feet. Turning her preciously in his arms, Tyson held her against his chest with one arm, his other hand reaching up to brush the tears from her eyes. "What happened?" he asked, his voice laden with intensity.  
  
Trish viciously shook her head, hiding her face and burying into his chest, hugging him tightly.  
  
Tyson rocked her gently, his hands caressing her back as he tried to sooth her tears. After a few minutes, he eased her back, cupping her chin in his hands. Her eyes held a far away look, hardened and cold. But his eyes blazed at the strange mark on her cheek. "Who?" he growled, his body shaking with the restrained anger.  
  
Trish swallowed hard, her lower lip trembling as she held the tears back. She licked her lips, reaching up to stroke her fingers over his cheek. "On Sunday ..." she said softly, seductively. Her eyes narrowed intensely with her next words. "Hurt ... him."

* * *

Trish glanced either way down the corridor of her hotel. At the far end, she spotted an open door and a scantily clad woman standing outside. Walking briskly, she approached the woman, a serious focused look in her eye. "Leave." She demanded.  
  
The other woman casually turned her gaze. "Excuse me? But I just got here."  
  
"And you'll be leaving." Trish said, a threat to her tone.  
  
The other woman laughed. "I'm sorry, missy ... but I was sent here by the gentlemen down the hall. And they stated specifically that ..."  
  
Trish waved a one hundred dollar bill in front of the woman. "Sorry for your trouble. Now go find some other work."  
  
The other woman smiled, taking the bill between her fingers then flashed a quirky smirk into the room. "Sorry, Sweetcheeks. I'll be seeing you."  
  
Trish watched with stone eyes as the woman walked away then turned her attention to the man beside her.  
  
Randy Orton smiled, devilishly, impishly as he crossed cocky arms over his chest. "Well, if it isn't the lovely Miss Stratus. Now what could she possibly want from company such as mine."  
  
Trish said no words but lifted a dainty hand and shoved him into the room.  
  
Randy chuckled, walking to the bed.  
  
She closed the door, her eyes quickly taking in the room.  
  
His belongings were casually strewn about the floor, the spare bed covered with clothes that appeared much to large for him. He was shirtless and barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of loose fitting soccer shorts that hung low on the hip. He stretched his back then turned to her, that sexy quirk still on his lips. "How can I help you?"  
  
Trish walked steadily towards him. "Where's Dave?"  
  
Randy's cocked his head. "He's gone for the night. Won't be back until the morning. Why?"  
  
Her hand reached out again as she shoved him hard.  
  
Randy grunted at the impact, caught off guard by her aggression when she pushed him. He landed on his back on the bed. The smile never left his lips. "Well, now it seems that ..."  
  
Trish straddled him quickly, crushing her mouth to his in a forcefully violent kiss.  
  
He choked on his words, not responding at first out of sheer shock. She thrust her tongue into his mouth, taking complete advantage and simply doing as she pleased, her hands running roughly over his chest, sides and arms. Moving her head slightly, she forced his mouth open even wider, as wide as she could.  
  
Their teeth clicked harshly together and Randy didn't think he'd ever been kissed this deeply in his life. He was nearly choking on her tongue and still he was too shocked to react. But he certainly didn't want her to stop.  
  
Trish thrust her hips hard onto his, forcing an animalistic growl to rumble deep in his throat. She tangled and wrapped her tongue around his, pressing her mouth even harder against his already sore mouth. Coiling their tongues, she drew his slicked muscle into her mouth, forcing the widest of kisses as she suckled strongly.  
  
Randy's lust filled groan echoed through the room as he band his arms tightly around her back, slipping quickly under her shirt to feel skin. He wasted no time in unfastening her bra and tossing it aside bfore rolling them over. Pinning her with his full body weight, Trish raked her hands through his short wet hair, clinging fiercely to the back of his head. He was just as eager to touch her and trailed his hands to the front of her chest, massaging and caressing her with aggressive need.  
  
But instead of recoiling like he expected, she moaned into his mouth, scratching her hands down his back to grab his ass. Spreading her legs, she pulled him harshly into her, grinding his already excited reaction.  
  
Randy pulled back then, staring down at her with a darkened crazed lust. His body pulsating for her, he licked his bruised swollen lips. "Change of heart, I see." His lust laced voice gruffly stated.  
  
Arching into him, her hips rocking into his, she let out a sexy groan. "Fuck me."  
  
But Randy teasingly cocked his head. "What, your little boys can't help you here?"  
  
"I need a real man." She responded, deeply, continuously rocking against him.  
  
Randy's eyes fluttered as an involuntary groan slipped from his lips and she slipped her hands under his shorts, grabbing flesh and pulling him harder against her.  
  
Trish smiled, peeking her tongue out to lick his lips. "Are you man enough, to handle me?"  
  
Tearing the shirt viciously from her body, Randy crashed their mouths together, completely dominating the submissive woman, proving his worth.  
  
(Read, review ... trust me things are going to get real juicy. This is still a chris/trish fic for all you people out there. And remember, this is me writing. So things aren't always what they seem.) 


	12. June 14, 2004

Title: Endless Love  
  
Author: Crimson Coin CrimsonCoinyahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points.  
  
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.  
  
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.  
  
Archiving: Ask me first.  
  
June 14, 2004  
  
Trish Stratus pressed a hand into her weary eyes as she made her way down the arena corridor. A ragged sigh on her breath, she pushed into her private locker room, her eyes immediately falling on the form of a familiar individual.  
  
He was unmoving, his eyes downcast and head bowed, his hair hanging loosely over his face to block everything from view. His shoulders slumped, his body sagged. He was worn.  
  
She sighed, walking into the room and tossing her belt on her duffle bag. "Jeff, what are you doing here?"  
  
He looked up, his eyes drawn and haggered, nearly black with the sleepless circles under his usually bright green eyes.  
  
Trish shook her head, eyeing him. "What? What could possibly bring you here?"  
  
"I don't know, Trish." He snarled in an unusually harsh tone. "Let's see, shall we? Let's see what could possibly be bothering me. Well, first of all, Lita seems to be pregnant with Kane's love child. Edge and Stacey are fighting yet again, Chris Jericho is a total ass and I haven't talked to him because he can't manage to do anything but bad mouth you, I haven't talked to my brother because I just can't, Edge isn't returning my calls and I have no where else to fucking be."  
  
She closed her eyes as his tone grew more panged with each passing word. "You shouldn't be here."  
  
"And where should I be?" he asked. "Where? I don't belong anywhere, Trish. I don't belong anywhere anymore."  
  
"Then why do you stay."  
  
Jeff jumped to his feet, speaking low and deep as he drew closer to her. "Because I can't leave. Where would I go? What would I do? There's nothing for me anywhere. I'm just some lost wandering soul with nothing left in this world. I should just take my own life and be done with it."  
  
"Don't be so foolish," she said dryly, turning from him to dig through her bag.  
  
"Is it really so foolish?" He laughed. "And your indifference only sparks my reasoning."  
  
"Don't accuse me of what you don't know!" Trish snapped, turning cold angered eyes on him. "I am not indifferent to you. Forgive me if I seem cold, but I've been through a lot this past week."  
  
Jeff closed his eyes. "I'm sorry." He said, softly then paused a moment to gather himself. "Why are you so harsh with her? With Lita? You have no more qualm with her."  
  
"I do."  
  
He shook his head, forcing his eyes open. "What? Chris can't possibly still be ..."  
  
"Not Chris," she said harshly then quickly lowered her voice. "Not Chris." She sighed. "It's you. I ... I target her for you. Are you happy?"  
  
He cocked his head, his eyes curious as he gazed at her. "Me? But ... why?"  
  
Trish stepped close to him, reaching out a shaky hand. Worriedly, she moved slow, cautious until her hand cupped his cheek. His skin was clammy, balmy and cold. Her eyes glassed as she brushed her thumb along his lips then chin before reluctantly pulling back. He seemed to cringe when she moved away as if he did not wish to lose her touch. But she just couldn't bring herself to keep it. "If only she saw what she could have had in you."  
  
A sick sneer pulled his lips. "She has Matt. She doesn't need me and never did. I pined for months and for what. Just so I can be discarded like a lump of unwanted flesh. Tossed to the dogs without a second thought. She digs her own grave now. I don't care what happens to her."  
  
Trish smiled, with an easy shake of the head. "You lie, Jeff. You care and it's only a matter of time until you run to her or your brother's aid."  
  
Jeff brushed past her, keeping her to his back. "Do you enjoy provoking me? And anyway, if I'm such a great guy and a great person or whatever why did you break it off with me."  
  
"Because I could never love you the way you loved me." She answered simply.  
  
He chuckled. "Blunt. Honest ... but blunt."  
  
"That's how I feel."  
  
He glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes yearning to hers. "Is that still how you feel?"  
  
Trish gave a sad nod. "Yes. I'm not the girl for you, Jeff. I never was."  
  
"Then why did you go out with me?" He turned to her suddenly, an accusatory glance in his eyes. "You knew how I felt from the start. You knew how much I liked you, you ... you knew and still you were with me. Do you think that was fair to me?"  
  
"No," Trish answered with only the slightest bit of remorse in her eyes. "No, it wasn't fair. But is anything fair?" A painful laugh slipped from her lips. "I can say that I haven't been treated fairly ... ever."  
  
"I'm sorry." He apologized again. "It's just ..." he reached out, brushing his fingers along her cheek. "Sometimes I wish that ... that I could have been the man for you."  
  
"I don't." she said and only cocked her head at the crushed look that graced his face. "Because then I wouldn't have you like this."  
  
"But I could still be here for you like this if we were together." He answered, quickly. "I changed for you. You ..." he chuckled, a tweaked smile pulling at his lips. "You have this ability to change men, Trish Stratus. And you changed me."  
  
"But that's why." She said, gently, grabbing his hand in both hers. "That's why you're not the man for me. Because you changed. You willingly gave up everything you are to try and please me and I don't want that power over a man."  
  
"You had that power over Chris."  
  
Trish shuddered at the mention of his name but she refused to show any weakness. "No, I didn't. He didn't change who he was for me. He was always that man, but he only allowed himself to be him with me. If that even made sense."  
  
Jeff ducked his head. "I understand. You're saying that I changed to be the man you wanted ... and Jericho was always him. But it just took a little motivating for Chris to show himself."  
  
She gave a sad nod. "Yeah." She said, softly. "Yeah, that's right."  
  
He blinked, furiously, looking to the ceiling. "I'm not the man for you. I'm not the man for Lita. Am I even a man?"  
  
"Of course you are." Trish breathed. "You're an amazing man. The man right here with me right now. You're sweet and affectionate and caring and handsome and loving and selfless. It takes a real man to be all that and still be aggressive in defending himself and those he cares about. Like you did me last week to Chris."  
  
Jeff nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Do you still love Chris?"  
  
Again, she shied away at the mention of his name, her eyes averted to the side. "I don't know. He struck me, Jeff. I remember his words when he said that I could attack him with a bat and he would never strike me and last week ... he struck me. And in his eyes there was nothing but hatred, no remorse even after it was done. I know I'm no angel but ..."  
  
"Yes, you are." Jeff said, quickly, meeting her eyes. "You are and I don't care about those tapes and I don't care how many men you've been with or what you've done. I know you. And I know you weren't with a man the entire time you were with Chris."  
  
Trish ducked her head, backing away from Jeff's close proximity. "That makes no difference. And there's no excuse for who I am and what I've done. I'm a whore."  
  
"Stop it."  
  
"It's true." She took a moment, taking a deep breath. "It's true and I know it. You know it. That was me on every clip of that tape. I did that. I had sex with every one of those men. And more that weren't even shown and others that weren't recorded." She raised a finger silencing the other man. "And no matter what, there is no one at fault but me. I did it. I knew what I was doing."  
  
Jeff tilted his head, his eyes full of affection and kindness. "Trish, you don't have to use your body in order to please."  
  
"Yes, Jeff." She answered. "I do. It's all I have. It's all I am." A sad smile tugged at her lips. "It's all I know."  
  
He glanced around the room then at his watch. "Chris is probably on now. You aren't watching?"  
  
She shook her head. "I don't care what he does. He wouldn't listen to me. I was willing to tell him everything last week. I was ready to just fall to my knees and tell him everything. And he wouldn't let me. He didn't want to hear it."  
  
"He's a fool."  
  
"Trish!" a booming voice called as a vicious knock resounded on the door. "Trish, I hear voices are you ok?"  
  
The door burst open and Jeff jumped, his eyes widening as Tyson Tomko barged in. The big man's eyes fired and as Tyson walked forward, Jeff prepared to defend himself.  
  
Trish stepped between the two men, her hands raised. "Tyson, don't." As the big man stopped, she approached him, her hands placed affectionately on his arms. "It's ok. Jeff is a friend of mine and he'd never hurt me. There's no need to worry."  
  
Tyson's eyes narrowed. "You hurt her ... I'll kill you. I swear it."  
  
Jeff kept his head high. "If I hurt her ... I'll let you."  
  
Tyson nodded, satisfied with the answer before turning his eyes back on Trish. "Are you going to stay in my room tonight or with Randy again?"  
  
Jeff furrowed his brow, confusion settling in.  
  
"I'm staying with Randy." Trish stated. "Don't wait up, I'll be fine. All my things are here and I'm just going back to his hotel with him. Then I'm going home for a few days."  
  
"Ok," Tyson answered. "You need me ... you call. Ok?"  
  
Trish smiled, giving the big man a hug. "Thanks."  
  
Tyson glared at the youngest Hardy as he left and when the door swung shut, Jeff stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Randy? You ... you're staying with Randy? And with Tomko? Are ... Are you sleeping with both of them? Are ... "  
  
Trish closed her eyes, slowly turning to him as he trailed off. "I'm staying with Randy. I'm sleeping with Randy and have been for about a week. I'm not sleeping with Tyson."  
  
Jeff licked his lips, worry and sorrow filling him. "Why? Trish, God, why?"  
  
"Because he appreciates me."  
  
"No, Sweetheart." Jeff said, softly. "He doesn't appreciate you. He appreciates the fact that you'll spre ..." he stopped speaking, looking to the ground.  
  
She laughed, sinisterly. "I'll what? What, Jeff? Say it. What were you going to say? Because I spread my legs for him? Go on. Say it. That's what you were going to say."  
  
"I didn't mean ..."  
  
"That doesn't matter." She interrupted. "It doesn't matter. That's what you were going to say and you're right. I spread my legs for him. He likes that. He appreciates that. The months I spent on Chris and he never appreciated me. I should have just slept with him on day one when I went to him in his locker room way back in October and things would be different. But no. I had to try and be honorable or something. I had to flirt and to tease and to try and have a real relationship with him. It only proves what I've always known. A man won't appreciate me unless I fuck him."  
  
Jeff shook his head. "I never needed that to appreciate you. The sex was secondary. I didn't care about it."  
  
She laughed.  
  
"I mean it." He said intensely, stepping to her and touching her face. "I ... mean it. Hell, who am I kidding. Just looking at you right now, it's so easy for me to see why I fell in love with you. And the sex had absolutely nothing to do with it."  
  
Trish didn't respond at first, her eyes locked on his, searching his stark green eyes. A sincere smile slipped onto her face and she reached up to take his hand. "You are a rare sort, Jeff Hardy. Blest is the woman who can finally claim your heart."  
  
Jeff licked his lips, his voice dropping with emotions. "Would I not be better than Randy? He'll hurt you. He's using you. I won't hurt you and ..."  
  
She pressed her hands to his lips, silencing him. "Not you."  
  
"Why?"  
  
She shook her head, her eyes glassed and filled with unshed tears. "Because I'd only hurt you in the end."  
  
His eyes closed, he ducked his head. "I'd fall in love with you again, instantly."  
  
"I know. And that's why I can't." she said, gently. "I know you will and I can't hurt you again. I've hurt enough men."  
  
"But Randy? What about Chris?"  
  
"What about him?" she responded. "I was mistaken about him. Do you know how many men I've loved only to have them break my heart? The only time I don't get hurt is ... well, it's when I do like what I'm doing with Randy." She glanced casually at her watch. "Look, his match should be over soon and he'll be waiting for me. I've got to head over to his locker room."  
  
Jeff watched, helpless as she shouldered her bag and new belt. As she walked to the door, he took a step. "Promise me." She paused, waiting for him to continue. "Promise me that if anything goes wrong. Anything I don't care where you are or what it is, you call me."  
  
Trish offered him a saddened smile. "I know I'll always have you, Jeff. Just like I have Tyson and Christian."  
  
"Promise me."  
  
"I swear." She said seriously then ducked her head, gathering her thoughts. "But I want you to promise me something too."  
  
"Name it." He said, quickly, more than willing to do anything she wished. And from the look in her eyes, he knew she was thinking about something important, something still dear to her heart.  
  
"I ..." She quickly shook her head. "Forget it."  
  
"Trish," he raced after her as she pushed out the door. But as he glanced down the hall, he only saw a flash of blonde as she turned a corner. He sighed, his arm dropping hopelessly to his side. She was gone.  
  
(All done with this chapter. Tell me what you think, and if you want me to continue.) 


	13. June 21, 2004

Title: Endless Love  
  
Author: Crimson Coin CrimsonCoinyahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points.  
  
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.  
  
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.  
  
Archiving: Ask me first.  
  
June 21, 2004  
  
Chris Jericho laughed, wrapping an arm around his waist as he pushed through the locker room door. "Oh man, did you guys see that? With Rocky? Oh man, that was rich." Letting out a sigh, he glanced around the room. "Where's Edge?"  
  
"He'll be right back." Jeff answered, coolly, his eyes glued on the screen.  
  
Chris turned his attention there as well, his head cocked with amusement. "Oh ... Oh, that's my boy. Showed that little bitch who's boss." His smile brightened as Randy Orton reeled in pain on the mat of the ring.  
  
Jeff remained composed.  
  
Stacy smiled, her eyes dancing as she watched Edge walk back up the ramp. "Wasn't he wonderful?"  
  
Chris only shook his head. "I really don't understand you two. One moment you're fighting then you're happy. Are you together or not or what?"  
  
Stacy blushed, ducking her head. "Well, I ..."  
  
The door burst open, Edge was panting. "Oh yeah! Did you see that?"  
  
Chris chuckled, digging out his ring gear from his duffel bag. "Alright, I'm gonna get ready." He paused, fisting his tights then turned to the group. Nobody moved. "Uh," he cleared his throat. "Stace?"  
  
"Oh?" Stacy jostled, her eyes fixed on the screen. "I don't mind. Go ahead."  
  
Jericho sighed, turning his back as he changed. Then he heard the music ... her music. He pulled up his tights, turning to watch the screen, noting how engrossed Jeff seemed. "Must we really watch this?"  
  
"Yes," Jeff answered, simply.  
  
Sighing reluctantly, Chris rolled his eyes, refusing to watch. But the thought of her on that screen just so close pulled at him. He could hear her voice, taunting. And he couldn't look away.  
  
Entranced, he watched the match. Watched every move, every motion. He couldn't tear his eyes away. He felt an emptied pang, a yearning fill him but he refused to cave, refused to give into the demand of his heart. He couldn't stop the breathy curse that slipped from his lips when Victoria landed a hard kick on Trish's jaw.  
  
Nobody reacted to him  
  
He was thankful no one seemed to notice his sudden worry and concern. His eyes hardened at the sight of Tomko and when the bell finally rung, he couldn't keep that hatred from his eyes. The way that Tomko acted, treated Trish. It made him sick. He just wanted to run down there and ... no.  
  
Chris quickly shook his head. What was he thinking? What came over him? "Fuck," he sighed.  
  
Jeff stood.  
  
"Where you going?" Chris snapped, though his tone caught even himself off guard. He didn't mean to snap.  
  
But Jeff was easily irritable and turned angered eyes on the other man. "What's it to you?"  
  
"I was just asking," Chris responded with spite. Where did Jeff get off with such an attitude. "Jesus, God forbid I ask you a question. I was just asking where you were going?"  
  
"Well, if you must know," Jeff sneered. "Though I don't see why you'd care. I'm going to see Trish. That kick she took seemed to really knock her for a loop. And I'm worried about her. You know ... worry? Care? Two emotions you'd never know."  
  
As Jeff turned his back, Chris felt a flair of fuming jealousy rise in his core. His heart raced, his body surged. And in that second for reasons beyond his control, Chris wanted to kill Jeff Hardy. "Who you kidding Jeff?" He snarled. "You need a fuck that bad? You just want her to crawl into your bed again."  
  
Jeff let out a chuckle then turned his head, his arm outstretched on the door. The laughter died, and his eyes locked on Jericho's. "Better my arms ... than yours."  
  
Shocked, Jericho couldn't respond as the door swung shut and deafening silence filled the room. With a booming roar, Chris picked up his bag and hurled it across the room, the contents spilling everywhere. Growling, he recoiled and threw a hard punch into the locker. Another punch then another, he attacked the metal locker with thundering energy and anger.  
  
"Chris," Edge burst out. "Chris!" He rushed forward, grabbing Chris's arms and kept him from doing anything else. Gathering his energy, Edge threw the other man across the room. "Chill Out!" he demanded.  
  
A string of curses rang from Chris's lips and Jericho clenched his fists, his entire body tensing with his frustration.  
  
"Look at me!"  
  
Jericho glared up.  
  
"You had better get yourself in control." Edge said sternly. "We have a match in less than half an hour so you had better be fucking ready."  
  
"I'll be ready."  
  
"You're not listening to me." Edge yelled. "Randy and Dave are gonna try to kill us because that's what Evolution does. And for some reason, it seems that Randy of all people has been gunning for your ass. Dave is a monster and we have to be on our top guard and our top performance. Which means no distractions." Edge raised a finger, pointing at his partner. "Which means get that girl and all this shit outta your head."  
  
Jericho did nothing. Only glared.  
  
"I fucking swear, you son of a bitch." Edge snarled. "I don't wanna get hurt out there and I know you don't either. So get your fucking act together. Ok?"  
  
"Alright." Jericho growled. "I'm gonna go get some air. And cool off."  
  
"You do that." Edge called after his friend and when the door slammed closed, he fell back limply onto the couch.  
  
Stacy sat beside him, reaching out a soft hand to touch his arm. "It'll be ok." She said, gently. "It has to be. Just be careful out there."  
  
Edge nodded. "I will."  
  
A soft rasp pulled their attention to the door and both turned their heads. Slowly, the door eased open and a wary head peaked inside.  
  
"Lita?" Edge stood.  
  
Lita forced a smile as Stacy charged over to her. "Hi."  
  
"Oh, Lita." Stacy squealed, hugging her friend. "This is so wonderful. Did you tell Matt? How is everything? How are you?"  
  
Lita nodded. "I'm fine. I told him this past weekend and he's really excited."  
  
Stacy clapped her hands, unable to withhold her excitement. "Oh this is so wonderful. I'm going to go find Matt." She turned to Edge, taking his hand. "You be careful out there."  
  
"I will," Edge promised with a soft smile and he kept the smile on his face as Stacy bounced out the door. Serious again, he looked at Lita, eyeing her down turned head curiously though he didn't speak.  
  
Lita swallowed hard. "Have ... have you seen Jeff?"  
  
"He's with Trish." Edge answered simply.  
  
A flash of pain and betrayal flashed in her eyes and she looked up, locking gazes. "Trish?"  
  
Edge nodded. "Yeah, Trish."  
  
"Oh," She sighed, nervously rubbing the back of her neck as she looked up to a far corner of the room. "If ... if you see him, can you tell him I was looking for him."  
  
Edge nodded again. "I'll tell him." As Lita turned towards the door, he took a step forward. "Lita,"  
  
She froze.  
  
He only exhaled a breath. "If you ever need me. I'm here."  
  
A genuine smile slipped onto her lips. "Thank you." She mumbled then walked out the door, leaving Edge alone.

* * *

Tyson Tomko cradled Trish against his powerful chest, walking through the arena and to the trainers.  
  
"You can put me down." She said softly. "I'm ok."  
  
"I don't believe you. Plus, Randy was pretty worried and made me promise to have you checked out. And I'm worried too, that stupid slut hit you so hard, where does she come off kicking you like that. So to ease my conscious and Randy's, I'm taking you to the trainers." He said, sternly, never breaking his stride despite her struggle. "So I will carry you, kicking and screaming to the trainers if I must."  
  
She giggled, snuggling into his chest. "Well if you insist, maybe I'll just catch a few winks."  
  
Tomko chuckled, holding her close and precious and he pushed into the trainers' room. With gentle delicateness, he laid her on the medical table then took a few steps back.  
  
Trish opened her eyes, looking up at him. A warm smile graced her lips at his slight blush and he looked away from her. "You're so sweet to me, Tyson."  
  
"Christian would have my hide if I wasn't."  
  
She cocked her head. "So are you saying that you wouldn't be if it wasn't for Christian?"  
  
Shyly, he shook his head. "I'm gonna ... I'm gonna go to catering and get something to eat. I'm really hungry. I'll come back and check on you in a bit." That said, he made it quickly out the door.  
  
"Seems like he's quite smitten with you."  
  
Trish turned her eyes to the soft female voice that spoke. A gentle smile pulled at her lips again. "Yeah, it ... it seems that he is."  
  
The female trainer laughed. "Alright, let me take a look at you."  
  
"I haven't seen you here before." Trish said. "Are you new?"  
  
"Fairly," the woman answered. "I've only been on a few weeks. Hmmm ... does this hurt?"  
  
"No."  
  
"You're fine."  
  
"I know."  
  
The woman laughed. "Then why are you here?"  
  
Trish shrugged. "Tyson was worried and refused to let me alone unless he dragged me here."  
  
"Wow," the woman's smile grew warm. "It seems he really is quite taken with you."  
  
"Trish!" the door burst open.  
  
Frightened, both women jumped.  
  
Jeff Hardy ran into the room right to Trish's side as he took her hand. "Are you ok? Let me see. Does it hurt? Is it broken?" His eyes flew to the trainer. "Why aren't you doing anything? Shouldn't she be icing it? What were you hired for, just to stand around and look pretty?"  
  
The trainer chuckled again. "Another one who seems to be quite taken."  
  
"Shut up." Trish laughed.  
  
Sweet concern and confusion fell onto Jeff's face. "What's she talking about?"  
  
"Nothing, Sweetie." Trish pacified and touched his arm. "I'm fine. It hurt and I was just knocked a little loopy. But I'm fine."  
  
He eyed her with disbelief. "Are you yanking my chain? Cuz I don't like to have my chain yanked."  
  
"Really," Trish said. "Cuz if I recall, you really loved when I ..."  
  
"Trish!" he chided, in a quite paternal tone.  
  
"Alright." Trish laughed. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't resist."  
  
Jeff nodded. "All forgiven." He cocked his head. "Do you care if we put the rest of the show on in here?"  
  
Trish shook her head. And as if luck would strike, she saw Jericho taunt and then Batista clothesline him hard. Her heart jumped somewhere into his throat and as he recoiled into a corner of the ring, she felt her breath stop.  
  
The seconds dredged on and she watched more trainers run down to the ring and the door swung closed as the trainer in the room raced out too.  
  
"I'm sure he's fine."  
  
Trish's head whipped to the side, meeting Jeff's gaze.  
  
The man's eyes remained soft and concerned. "Chris is a tough son of a bitch. He's fine."  
  
Trish ducked her head.  
  
"It'll be ok."  
  
"You don't understand," she said, shying away from him. "This is all my fault."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Trish sighed. "I told Randy and Dave what he said to me and what he did. I didn't tell him why but ... but that doesn't matter and Dave, well he's not so bad when you get him going."  
  
"Didn't they attack you? I mean, it wasn't that long ago."  
  
She shrugged. "I don't' know. But ... it doesn't matter now and Dave ... Randy was so pissed I wouldn't be surprised if he told Dave to do something. He ... Randy told me that I shouldn't worry and everything'll be ok. And ... Oh God."  
  
"It's not your fault." Jeff said. "Come on. Let's go find him. We can check on him."  
  
"I couldn't."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I ... I ... I ..." She shook her head. "I couldn't."  
  
Jeff grabbed her hand. "Come on." And he dragged her out of the room.

* * *

Jeff peaked cautiously into one of the rooms, his hand tightly grasping Trish's. "There's nobody in the room." He whispered. "Chris is just in there. His eyes are closed, the lights are dark. Like real low or something." He shoved Trish into the room.  
  
"Jeff." She hissed.  
  
"I'll stand watch. Don't be long." He closed the door.  
  
Trish bit her lip, her eyes focusing in the slightly darkened room and she saw his prone form. Walking slowly, she approached his side. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and constant just as if he were sleeping. He was so beautiful.  
  
She reached out a shaking hand, brushing the hair from his brow and tucking it behind his ear. Just the touch of him brought tears to her eyes. His skin was so smooth. She trailed her fingers down his bare chest then arm before entwining their fingers.  
  
He didn't move.  
  
"Chris," she breathed, his name rolling off her tongue with a wonderful naturalness. It truly felt as if she was meant to say it. "Oh, Chris, I'm so sorry." She froze as he stirred but then he stilled.  
  
She watched as he licked his lips, his head falling to one side and he let out a little moan.  
  
"Shh, Chris." She cooed, unable to stop herself. She sat at his side, pulling his hand into her lap to hold it there. Her free hand reached out, touching his cheek and forehead. "Shh, just rest it off." Her voice was hardly above a whisper and she felt pain at the sight.  
  
She knew he'd never be hers again. That chance is gone and lost. And holding his hand right now, she could instantly forgive his strike out. Just looking at him, holding his hand, she couldn't bring herself to look on him and hate him. Even though he struck her and called her names, she could not hate him. She loved him too much.  
  
Locking out the pain, the frustration, the anger at not only herself but everyone, she fought the tears. "Be happy." She whispered and slowly leaned down. Swallowing hard, she licked her lips before her mouth hovered just over his. "I will always love you, Chris Jericho. ... Goodbye." She leaned closer still, her lips parting but then froze.  
  
Her lips trembled as a tear slipped from the corner of her eye and she had to pull back from him. Ducking her head, she sniffled, squeezing her eyes closed to force the tears back. She had no right to kiss him. She would not tarnish his lips, his skin with so intimate a touch. She jumped as the door barged open and she quickly stood, ready to face whoever barged in.  
  
"Leave me alone." An angered Edge said, swatting at the hands of the trainers.  
  
"Edge, you could have broken your cheek." One said, restraining the wrestler. "Now just lay down so we can look."  
  
"Edge?" Trish rushed to her friend's side, noting that Jeff stood there as well. "Edge, what happened?"  
  
"I have no idea." He snapped. But Edge realized his unnecessary tone and sighed. "I'm sorry. I just ... I don't know. I have no idea what's going on. All I know is I don't want these Fucktards touching me. That's what I know."  
  
"Then let me see." Trish said. "I know about this stuff from college. Just let me look."  
  
Edge's eyes narrowed. "Only you. Nobody else is touching me."  
  
Trish nodded. "It's ok. You guys can leave." She said to the trainers. "If something's really wrong, I'll get you." Reluctantly, the trainers left and Jeff kept his head low, watching as Trish stepped closer to the blonde.  
  
Her gentle feminine hands cupped his face, tilting his head so she could see him more clearly.  
  
Jericho shifted his weight, unnoticed by others in the room. His eyes fluttered open and his stomach lurched. The first thing he saw was Trish Stratus, oblivious to his existence, as she checked on another. He closed his eyes. He couldn't watch her; it hurt too much. His hatred, his jealousy simmered and grew. He had no right feeling this way. There was no reason and it was uncalled for. He willed his emotions to stop, to still and he demanded that Trish leave his thoughts. But his will was not strong enough and she invaded him.  
  
(Well, what do we think? Can you see where this is going? No need to fear all you shippers out there. Read, review, let me know. And let me know if you want more Chris/Trish other than this. Because I may have exactly what you're looking for.) 


	14. June 28, 2004

Title: Endless Love  
  
Author: Crimson Coin CrimsonCoinyahoo.com  
  
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.  
  
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.  
  
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.  
  
Archiving: Ask me first.

* * *

June 28, 2004  
  
Chris Jericho growled his frustration stomping down the corridor with Edge close at his side.  
  
"Hey, Jericho."  
  
The Canadians spun at the familiar tone. There was no time for reaction.  
  
Dave Batista plowed into Chris Jericho, Chris grunting with the impact as the big man tackled him to the ground. Edge stood shocked for only a moment but before he could help, a shoulder dug into his ribs, spearing him to the ground as well.  
  
Jericho struggled, but the big man had him pinned and all he could do was raise his arms to defend his head. Edge, on the other hand, quickly gained the offensive and tossed Randy Orton away. Randy stumbled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as his eyes fired with an unknown rage.  
  
Charging again, Orton lunged, punching Edge square across the jaw. Edge fell back, his back crashing against the concrete wall then he collapsed into a pile of pipes, chairs and boxes.  
  
Randy wasted no time, immediately pouncing on Jericho, his fists joining the fray. Chris groaned as he felt his lip split and he was defenseless to the attack. He shoved and bucked with everything inside, but Batista was too big. He felt his breath escape as the big monster turned his attention lower and began jabbing Chris in the ribs.  
  
Chris felt dizzy from the pain and soon, the two were gone. He curled into himself, a coughing fit striking his weary chest and he felt darkness surrounding him. He could faintly hear voices and instantly recognized them but could do little about it.  
  
"Maybe that'll teach him." Randy said, harshly then spat in Chris's hair.  
  
Dave smiled, leaning down to swat at Chris's head. "And this isn't even the start of what I have in store for you, boy!"  
  
The darkness won.

* * *

Trish Stratus winced, lying back on the couch in the Evolution locker room. She licked her lips, letting her eyes fall closed as she tried desperately to relax, but her back simply hurt too much. She wouldn't tell anyone. Oh no, she couldn't.  
  
But Chris ... damn him. Damn that man. She had been placed in that wretched submission move of his for so long. First, Christian leaned so far back into it and then Chris ... week after week ... she hurt.  
  
She'd kept it hidden well for a long time. Tyson, Christian, Randy, Stacy, no one knew. No one could tell the pain she was in. She prided herself on being a good actress like that.  
  
She opened her eyes as the door opened, Randy and Batista walking inside before the door shut behind them. Randy looked at her only a moment then walked towards the showers. "I'm getting in," he said, nonchalantly, barely giving her a second glance.  
  
Trish sighed at his behavior but then watched cautiously, nervously as Dave approached her.  
  
Dave Batista dropped slowly to his knees at her side then cocked his head, eyeing her with a strange warmth. "Hi."  
  
"Hi," she answered, feeling a chill freeze her core.  
  
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, softly. "Or do anything for that matter. I just wanted to talk."  
  
She licked her lips, shifting her weight and doing her best to keep the wince off her face.  
  
Dave sighed, sitting back on his heels as he bowed his head. "You know, something has been plaguing my mind for months now and I owe you an apology."  
  
Trish eyed him, curious. She forced herself to sit up, biting her tongue to keep from vocalizing the pain that movement created.  
  
"I know it's not an excuse and I'm not trying to make excuses but it was a really rough time for me." He continued, not looking her in the eye. "Hunter told us all that ... well, to be honest that you were easy and that when he and Stephanie ended, he came to you the same way and you were all for it."  
  
Trish blinked slowly, remembering her evening with The Game.  
  
Dave chuckled. "I guess you'd changed in those years. But Hunter was just thinking that what I needed was a good woman. One who knew what she was doing so that I could escape the pain, you know." He paused. "She ... my girlfriend at the time left me for another man and I got carried away and didn't know what to do and Hunter was right. Being with another woman that night had helped me."  
  
Still Trish gave no answer.  
  
"You were the first person Hunter suggested." Dave ran a big hand through his slicked hair. He inhaled deeply then looked up, meeting her eyes. "So I'm sorry if I frightened you. I never intended to take advantage of you or anything. It's just from word of mouth, I figured you'd be willing."  
  
"It's ok, Dave." She said, gently, reaching out to cup the big man's cheek. "All is forgiven. I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you. I just didn't understand."  
  
"It's probably better this way." He responded. "After all, it would be kind of weird. You know you dating Orton after sleeping with me."  
  
A genuine smile pulled at Trish's lips. "Well, if it had happened, who's to say I'd be with Randy right now. I might have stayed with you."  
  
Dave blushed, bowing his head. "Maybe. But either way, I'm real sorry. You know Randy told me, about Chris hitting you." He looked up at her, more comfortable now that he'd changed direction of the conversation. "I'll make him pay for that. Of all the things that we do with women, beating them or hitting them in any way is never an option. That little weasel is gonna get what's coming to him. Randy and I took care of him just now."  
  
Her eyes widened. "What? What'd you do?"  
  
He smiled, proudly. "Let's just say, he'll remember not to mess with one of ours. Evolution protects their own. And at Vengeance, I'll make sure he remembers it. Win or lose, I don't care. He will feel pain."  
  
Trish swallowed the lump in her throat but she couldn't respond. Randy walked out of the shower, a white towel wrapped around his hips, his body still dripping with water. "Hey, Dave. Let's go."  
  
Dave chuckled. "What's your rush? You ain't coming out with us tonight anyway."  
  
Randy smiled his gorgeous winning smile. "But your ass is my ride back to the hotel. So this means that Trish and I have to sit here until you're ready."  
  
Dave playfully smacked his friend on the shoulders. "Well then you're just going to have to wait, aren't you."  
  
Randy rolled his eyes as Dave walked away. He spared her no courtesy as he dropped the towel to the ground, pulling his clothes from his bag and stepping into his boxers.  
  
Trish licked her lips. "What did you do to Chris?"  
  
"Don't worry," he said, curtly. "We handled things."  
  
"You didn't have to."  
  
Randy jumped, pulling up his pants, buttoning them then zipping the fly before he turned to her. A serious expression fell onto his face as he dropped to his knees at her feet, taking her hands in his. "He hurt you. I protect fiercely what is mine."  
  
"But he hurt me before I was with you."  
  
"Doesn't matter." Randy answered without hesitation. "I know why he did what he did. Chris Jericho all of a sudden high and mighty? I knew exactly the girl you were when Chris started getting interested in you. I heard all the stories and knew. He didn't and when he found out. Well, he just couldn't be a man about it. I knew. I knew about all the men and I don't care. I'm with you and couldn't give two damn about it. You're with me now, that's what counts."  
  
Another smile pulled at Trish's lips and the door burst open, Ric Flair stepping inside. "Hello, all."  
  
"Hi, Ric." Randy said then plopped next to Trish on the couch, a hand coming up to hold his head. "Damn it, Dave has a strong clothesline."  
  
Ric nodded, the ever-present grin on his face. "That he does. You know what's a good cure for a hard knock? A woman."  
  
Randy laughed. "That's your cure for everything, isn't it."  
  
"Prove me wrong," Ric said with a raised finger as he moved further into the room. "I'm serious man. A real beautiful woman can get your mind off of anything."  
  
"Hmmm," Randy hummed. "Now where can I find a beautiful woman?"  
  
Trish ducked her head, feeling a betrayal and rejection as he stared off to a blank corner of the room.  
  
"I know!" Randy exclaimed and Trish squealed as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his lap and holding her gently against his dampened chest. "I've got one. Ok, now what, Ric?"  
  
Trish giggled, cuddling into him as her hands traced around his waist then up his sides and over his abs and chest.  
  
Ric smiled, his eyes glowing mischievously. "It looks like she's already got the right idea."  
  
Randy chuckled and he wrapped his arms a little tighter around her. "Well, my dear, it looks like we should be leaving here very shortly. That or Ric and Dave will be viewing a very interesting entertainment segment in about, oh say, thirty seconds."  
  
Ric stood, walking to Batista's bag and pulling out a set of car keys. "Here," he tossed the keys. "Take Dave's car."  
  
Randy reached out quickly, grabbing the keys from the air before they could hit the woman in his arms. "But what about you guys?"  
  
"We're going out on the town." Ric said. "Don't worry, we'll take the limo. You go have fun with your little prize."  
  
"My prize, huh." Randy said, amused as Trish helped him to his feet. "You guys have fun without me. Ooo, wait, I forgot my shampoo in the shower. I'll be right back."  
  
Trish watched him jog back to the shower stall.  
  
"Sweetheart."  
  
Trish turned to look at Ric at his call of endearment.  
  
"You know something," he started. "That boy hasn't been with a single woman but you since you went to him that night. And Hunter ... well he's kinda upset that the whole gang isn't out partying it up. But not me. I'm glad that kid found someone solid for a change."  
  
Trish smiled.  
  
"I was a playboy, you know." Ric said even softer. "And now that I look back, I regret it. I hurt a lot of good girls but Randy ... well, he seems smarter than I was. He's keeping one of the good ones."  
  
Trish flushed and Randy walked out, noting the embarrassed look on Trish's face. "What's this?" He asked with light hearted curiosity. "You makin my girl blush?"  
  
Ric laughed. "Get outta here, you two, before Dave finds out I gave you his keys."  
  
Randy laughed, taking Trish's hand and shouldering his bag. "Later." He waved, leading her out the door.

* * *

Randy watched her carefully as Trish led the way up to his hotel room. He followed her wordlessly inside and his eyes narrowed as she took extra care placing her belongings on his bed. And as if by instinct, she pulled her shirt over her head.  
  
He stepped to her quickly, placing his hands on her shoulders to still her actions. "Don't." he said softly. "You're hurt."  
  
Trish turned quickly, her eyes widened and slightly angered at his accusation. "That's a filthy lie."  
  
He cocked his head. "Is it really?"  
  
"Yes," she stood resilient, unmoving and she outright refused to admit that he was right.  
  
He grabbed her hand then, bringing her into the bathroom. "Stay here," he said in a serious tone as he walked to the large Jacuzzi bathtub and started the water. Testing carefully, he made sure it was the right temperature. Glancing over his head, he picked out the perfect bottle, opened the cap and raised the bottle to his nose, inhaling the scent.  
  
Confident with his choice, he poured the slightest amount into the tub then resealed the cap, dropping the bottle to the floor. He reached for her. "Come here."  
  
Trish stepped to him, unmoving and refusing to show any emotion.  
  
He smiled, warmly then leaned down to give her a soft kiss. "Bet you didn't know this was in me, huh." Taking his time, he tenderly removed her clothing until she stood nude before him. He chuckled at her shy blush. "Don't be embarrassed." He grabbed her hand then. "Here, step in."  
  
Trish allowed him to help her into the tub and she sat down, her eyes turning to look at him. He wrestled with his pants, pushing them off his hips and she immediately knew his intentions. She restrained her scowl.  
  
But Randy left his boxers on and instead walked back to the tub, kneeling at the side as he turned off the hot flow of water. Trish eyed him curiously, unsure of what he was doing. But again he only smiled and gently touched her shoulder. "Turn around. Relax. Just let the warmth and the scent and everything calm you."  
  
She obeyed him and turned. His hands pressed into her shoulders and her eyes fluttered as he kneaded the sore muscles. Removing his hands, he wiped them on his boxers then reached over to the sink, grabbing her cosmetic bag.  
  
He pulled out one of her hair ties and with great care, he gathered her hair off her shoulders and tied it back. His hands immediately returned to her shoulders. "Lean forward a bit." He said in a husky voice and his hands massaged down her back, constantly pressing, rubbing then pouring the water over her back and shoulders.  
  
Trish closed her eyes with a sigh, and she felt so relaxed. She must have lost her balance because one of his arms slipped around her waist, holding her steady as he continued to massage her back.  
  
Randy worked lower and lower on her back, feeling the tensed balled muscles and he was diligent in his desire to free her from such strain. "Are you feeling any better?" And he chuckled at her cute moan of approval. "I do care for you, Trish. I don't want to see you hurt. If something hurts, tell me."  
  
"But I know what you expect." She breathed, her head lolling with his actions.  
  
"Sex comes second."  
  
Shocked, she pulled from his grasp, turning to face him with a look of disbelief. "What?"  
  
"Are you that shocked?"  
  
Her eyes wandered a moment. "Well, to be honest ... yes."  
  
A flash of hurt reflected in his eyes. "I'm sorry you feel that way." He stood.  
  
"Wait," she said quickly, reaching out to grab his hand. "Don't go." She pulled him down and he obeyed, kneeling again. "It's just that ... I didn't expect you to say something like that."  
  
He cocked his head at her. "Why do you look at me like that?"  
  
"You really do care, don't you? You approve?"  
  
The hurt remained in his eyes and a flash of confusion filled him. "Of course I care. Why would you think I wouldn ..."  
  
His words were cut off when she quickly lifted onto her knees, her arms wrapping around his neck as her lips crashed to his. Shocked by such passionate fire, he didn't react at first but soon, his own arms wrapped around her and he kissed her back.  
  
Her hands traveled quickly down his body and pushed down his boxers. He pulled back. "Wait."  
  
She shook her head. "Please. Join me. Now. I need you."  
  
"Trish ..."  
  
"Please," she begged, reaching for him again, her mouth crushing against his in a deep drugging kiss. Randy didn't object this time and he helped her make quick work of his boxers before he followed her into the tub. She gasped as he trailed his hot mouth over her neck, finding the perfect place to focus.  
  
A gasp slipped from her lips and she arched her back, tilting her head to give him easy access. She had to feel his pleasure. She had to feel his approval. She had to make him happy. He cared about her. Trish closed her eyes falling silently into the pleasure, even as the back of her mind pictured another.

* * *

_He smiled, pulling the small child further into his lap. "And what are you doing up so late, Missy?"  
  
The little girl smiled; Oh, how she looked like her mother. "I wanna wait for Mommy to come home."  
  
"But Mommy would be very upset if you were still awake. Your bedtime was two hours ago."  
  
"Please, Daddy," the little girl begged, her eyes saddened as a sweet pout fell onto her lips.  
  
He chuckled, shaking his head. Just like her Mother. He could never deny that woman when she gave him the same look, how could he deny his daughter. "Ok. But only until Mommy comes home, then you have to go to bed."  
  
A door opened and she walked inside, her eyes gazing softly and maternally at her sleeping husband and the child that lay at his side. She padded softly across the room, gathering the tiny child into her arms. The man stirred yet did not waken, but merely licked his lips and moaned his wife's name before stilling.  
  
A beautiful smile pulled at her lips as she carried her daughter up the stairs.  
  
"Mommy?"  
  
"Shhh," she hushed, rubbing the child's back at her sleepy tone. "Mommy's here. And it's past your bedtime."  
  
The little girl yawned, rubbing her eyes before laying her head back onto her mother's shoulder. "Daddy said I could wait up for you."  
  
"Oh he did, did he?"  
  
"Mmm hmmm," The little girl yawned again. "But Daddy fell asleep and I didn't want to leave him alone."  
  
The woman shook her head. Leave it to that man to fall asleep while watching their child. She walked into the nursery, placing the child on the bed then tucking her under the covers. "Now you go to sleep, little one. We have a busy day tomorrow."  
  
The little girl smiled, her eyes dancing. Oh, how she looked like him with such a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Grandma's."  
  
"That's right, we're going to Grandma's." The woman brushed the hair from her daughter's face as the child fell immediately into the realms of sleep.  
  
"When did you get home?"  
  
The woman turned at the voice, spotting her husband in the doorway, his arms stretched as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. She smiled, softly. "Just now."  
  
He yawned, stretching a little further then stepped out of the doorway to let her pass. "We were trying to wait up for you."  
  
"And it appears you've done a miserable job at that, my dear."  
  
He chuckled, following her down the hall and into their bedroom. "I'm not very good at that whole ... you know, awake ... thing."  
  
"You never were," she answered lightheartedly, walking silently to the bed and kicking off her shoes.  
  
He watched her those few moments, in silence. She was so beautiful. More beautiful than he ever remembered. He didn't think it possible to love someone so much, or so completely and yet ... he did. She walked gracefully over to the large window, throwing open the curtains and staring out into the night.  
  
Her arms wrapped around her stomach as she gave a satiated sigh. "Isn't it beautiful outside at this time?"  
  
He stepped to her then, standing behind her as he wrapped her in his arms, pulling her back into his chest. She didn't resist, not at all, but completely leaned into him, her hands running over his arms then entwining her fingers with his. He inhaled, her familiar scent filling and completing him. "Not as beautiful as you, my love."  
  
She sighed contently, blinking slowly as she turned in his arms. A smile slipped onto her lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. "Do you think so?"  
  
"Mmmm," he rocked against her, his arms sliding tighter around her waist. "Yeah, I ... I think so. I mean the jury is still out on deliberation, but I think so."  
  
That seductive twinkle glimmered in her eyes as she glanced at their door then back into his eyes. "So how long do you think we have till she wakes up?"  
  
"Well, that depends on what you have planned. I, for one ..." he smiled, leaning slowly down to her, his nose brushing against hers. He felt her heart race, her breath catch and his smile broadened. "I could really go for waffles."  
  
"Waffles?" she laughed, swatting his arm and wiggling from his grasp. "Get the hell outta here." She teased, walking to the bed. "A response like that, you can take the couch, Mister." She picked up his pillow and tossed it at his chest.  
  
He caught the pillow with ease, a sorrowful pout slipping onto his face. "But the couch is so cold. And it's been so long without you."  
  
"You shoulda thought of that before you voiced your craving for waffles."  
  
That mischievous smile tweaked at his lips and he tossed the pillow at her. She caught it quickly but he had distracted her with that and she soon found herself tackled and pinned to the bed. She bit back her laugh and did her best to look annoyed. "This most certainly is NOT the couch."  
  
"No," he chuckled. "But I think it's far more comfortable." He wiggled against her, settling more easily into her body. "Don't you think?"  
  
"Waffles," she huffed, looking away from him and to the ceiling.  
  
He smiled at her, cocking his head in a sweet adorable way. "But I have a secret."  
  
"What's that?" she asked, intrigued. "And this better be good, Buddy, because right now, I'm not too pleased with you."  
  
"Do you know why I wanted waffles?"  
  
She glared, a cute pout pulling at her lips.  
  
But he leaned down, brushing his lips over hers before speaking. "Everyone knows the best part of the waffles ... is the syrup. And I want to eat that syrup ..." he kissed her softly, "off of you." That said, he nudged her neck, sealing his lips to her throat.  
  
A groan slipped from her lips and her hands tangled in his hair, holding him close. She arched and squirmed against him, sighing her content as his lips traveled to her ear, nibbling along the shell before licking lightly inside. She shivered.  
  
"Would you like me to stop?" He breathed, heatedly, pushing his hips and body closer to her.  
  
"You better not," she answered in a lusty sigh, clutching even tighter to him.  
  
He chuckled softly, running his tongue along her ear before slowly brushing his lips back to her mouth. "So do you have any syrup?"  
  
"No," she answered, her eyes flashing fierce passionate need and her hands ran down his back then sides, eventually cupping him roughly through his pants. He gruffed a breathy curse, shuddering against her and she only smiled winningly. "But you have some ... and I want to taste."  
  
He growled, his body quaking as her lips crashed to his in a fiery kiss and he could do nothing more then submit. Every second that followed was filled with mind altering bliss. He had never known pleasure to be so intense, so wonderful. She was even more beautiful in such aroused passion and he had to keep reminding himself to breath and stay controlled if he wanted to survive.  
  
How much he missed her? How much he needed her?  
  
His stomach undulating, his hips rocking into hers, the sweet sweat dripped off their skin, coating their lover in a heated passionate slick. To be connected to her was a feeling all in itself, so wonderful and perfect and her legs wrapped around his waist to pull him even closer. Each time it was always as if it was his first and he had to remind himself to breath and to control himself lest it end too soon. "Darling," he panted into her open mouth, his body never stopping its motions, its instinctual desire to please and complete hers. "Darling, open your eyes."  
  
Her eyes opened and he sighed at her loveliness. A strange darkness enveloped them and no longer were they making love in a room but in a blackened blankness of space. She spurred him on, her nails digging into his back.  
  
A strike of pain stung at his core and the blackness devoured them, shadowing them from each other before flying away. Tears scrolled down her cheeks, her brown eyes filled with sorrow and her bright blonde tresses pulled weighty on her drawn face. She spoke to him in nothing but a whisper. "Chris, I ..."  
  
Beyond his control, he recoiled his hand. "Did I tell you to speak, Whore? Speak when you're spoken to." He struck her hard, the back of his hand slapping her across the face.  
  
In that instant, the flesh driveled and fell from her body, leaving her a grotesque gooey skeletal corpse. Yet those eyes, her eyes remained in tact within the eye sockets, still glassy and full of panged, sorrow and unshed tears. A high pitch shrill erupted from its decrepit mouth and his head swirled with the resounding shriek, his eyes were wide and glued onto the skull. Another screeching cry rang out and its nails scored down his back._  
  
Chris Jericho screamed, sitting up in his bed and he took a quick glance around the hospital room. A thick blanket of sweat coated his body and he doubled over, his stomach lurching. The physical pain of the attack earlier wearied him quickly and the room spun. His stomach flipping knots, his heart beating in his throat and Chris felt hot tears on his face. His entire body shook.  
  
His stomach refused to still and his face scrunched with the pain he felt. "Trish," he cried, his stomach still heaving and he cried her name one last time before leaning over the side of the bed. Bile rose in his throat, his empty stomach heaving with his nausea and Chris couldn't fight his body's desire to expel what little remained.  
  
( Read, review, let me know what you think. Oh and trust me ... the angst is gonna skyrocket. Review if you want me to continue.) 


	15. July 5, 2004

Title: Endless Love  
  
Author: Crimson Coin   
  
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.  
  
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.  
  
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.  
  
Archiving: Ask me first.  
  
July 5, 2004

* * *

Lita clenched her teeth, her shoulders tensing as she watched the camera man walk away, Trish Stratus making her own retreat as well. How dare she? How dare Trish Stratus say those things? Lita wasn't a whore. She didn't sleep with men for the hell of it to get what she wanted. Kane was a mistake and even so, she felt forced into it. And that perky little blonde acted as though she was innocent and Lita was a whore.  
  
Lita clenched her fists, her eyes flaming with an angered rage as she stalked after Trish. With an aggressive hand, she grabbed the blonde's arm, spinning her with force. She said nothing but swung hard, landing a vicious punch across the blonde's chin.  
  
Trish fell to the ground, her eyes wide with surprise as Lita pounced on top of her. One punch then another and Lita grabbed Trish's cast and slammed her broken wrist onto the concrete. Trish yelped in pain when suddenly Lita was pulled off and the blonde curled into herself, tears springing to her eyes as she rolled into a ball.  
  
Tyson Tomko tossed Lita across the floor, his eyes a passionate blaze as he approached the redhead again. "You little slut!" he growled, reaching down to fist her hair.  
  
But his hand was swatted away and Tomko straightened, glaring up at Lita's defender. Kane bore his teeth, his shoulders broad as he placed himself in front of Lita. Tomko growled, refusing to show any weakness. He could faintly hear the whimpers of pain and the shaking breaths and he knew it was Trish. That only fueled his anger.  
  
Kane inched closer to Tomko, neither man backing down. Kane tilted his head. "Do not touch ... the mother of my child."  
  
A sinister smile spread onto Tyson's lips. "Then keep your whore in check."  
  
Kane's glare flashed dangerously at those words and his sneer ominously grew. "Speak for your own."  
  
Tyson narrowed his eyes, sniffing once before cocking his head with utmost conviction.  
  
"What's going on?"  
  
Neither man moved at the voice.  
  
"I asked a question." Dave Batista clarified as he stepped next to Tyson. His eyes focused clear and threatening on the much larger Kane.  
  
Yet Kane appeared unfazed by the two men. "You protect yours. And I ... protect mine."  
  
Chris Jericho watched silently from his dark corner. His shoulder was heavily wrapped, an icepack held to his aching joint by numerous cloth bandages and his lip had stopped bleeding. But his concern was not for the argumentative men, nor for who would be his opponent on Sunday, the man who cost him the Intercontinental Championship.  
  
No.  
  
Chris's eyes were drawn to her, like always. Her tiny form, recoiling into herself as her face winced and contorted in pain. He could hear her faint whispers, the silent cries that rumbled in her throat. She was trying desperately to control her breathing but seemed to be failing. Her chest rose and fell with her gasps as her well hand gripped her cast, pulling the injured hand against her in protective instinct.  
  
His eye widened as he watched her lips and he could tell she was swearing. She sucked her lower lip into her mouth, steadying its trembling and another whimper slipped out.  
  
Edge stood from his place at Lita's side. He eyed Kane warily, then stood at the Red Machine's side, glaring down Tomko, Batista and Orton.  
  
Kane grabbed Tyson by the throat, sparing no time as he roared, lifting the other man into the air and throwing him through the glass window to his right. Edge pounced on Orton as Batista lunged at Kane.  
  
Chris cocked his head, watching the fight. Lita shuddered, pushing herself away from the men and huddling in a corner, too frightened to move. Edge, Kane, Batista, Orton, and Tomko fought. From one to the next, the action so chaotic Chris didn't know who was winning, much less anything else that was going on. He didn't care. His eyes scanned the area again, falling on Trish's crumpled body.  
  
The fight was moving closer to her. Closer and closer until Batista almost stepped on her when he staggered back. Chris could watch no more. He ran across the backstage lot, dodging flying objects and bodies until he reached Trish's side. He slipped his hands under her arms, pulling her back and away, hiding behind some large boxes. He was rough but he had to get her away before she got hurt again. He winced as his shoulder popped and he let out a hiss at the burning pain. Rolling his shoulder, he ignored it and dropped to his knees at her side.  
  
Trish didn't resist; she did not fight. The pain singed her nerves and shocked up her arm to her shoulder. She didn't know what was going on, only the severe pain in her wrist was inescapable. The tears finally fell from her eyes.  
  
"Sh, Shh, Shh" he hushed gently, reaching out and wiping the tears from her eyes. "Shh, it'll be alright." He turned his attention to her wrist.  
  
Trish shuddered, her eyes wide and afraid as she watched him, the man who not one month ago had struck her and called her names. Yet here he was, wiping the tears from her eyes with nothing but love in his face.  
  
He swallowed hard, carefully lifting her wrist to look at it. She hissed and he winced in sympathy. "Ok." He placed her arm down. "It'll be ok." He reassured, straining himself to unwrap his shoulder.  
  
"What ..." she licked her lips, clenching her teeth a moment to suppress the pain. "What are you doing? No."  
  
"Stop it." He ordered her and she quickly fell into silence. "Shit, I'm sorry. I just ... just trust me."  
  
She didn't respond, didn't fight as he continued to unwrap his shoulder. Straining with much difficulty, he removed all the bandages then took the soft ice pack off his bruised joint. Her breath caught in her throat as he wrapped the soft ice pack around the cast of her wrist.  
  
His muscles throbbing, his shoulder bursting with pain, he pushed that aside as he picked up his bandages and secured the ice pack to her cast. "It won't do much." He said with some difficulty. "But the cold should help numb it a little. Do you think it's rebroken?"  
  
Trish shook her head.  
  
He blinked slowly, tucking a corner of the bandage then delicately brushing his fingers along her cast. Catching himself, he pulled back suddenly, afraid to touch her anymore. He kept his eyes downcast and low as he spoke. "You should have someone look at it ... just to make sure."  
  
Trish didn't respond.  
  
Chris licked his dry lips, rolling his painful shoulder to try and ease the discomfort. Her eyes were so sad, so very sad. "Oh, Trish," he reached out to cup her cheek. "I ..."  
  
But she flinched away from him, her eyes flashing with fear.  
  
He froze, his heart breaking as he lowered his hand back down to his side. "Yeah." He closed his eyes and sat back on his heels. "Yeah, I ... I ..."  
  
"Get your fucking hands off of her."  
  
Chris fell back at the impact and his injured shoulder hit the concrete. His mouth agape with a silent cry, he squeezed his eyes shut as his other hand reached up to rub his cheek. He forced his eyes open and he was shocked.  
  
Randy Orton knelt at Trish's side, his hand placed on her waist as the young man glared with a fiery passion. "You're never going to touch her again. You hear me?" He turned his attention to Trish, his eyes immediately softening as he reached out to cup her cheek. "Are you ok, Baby? He didn't hurt you did he?"  
  
Trish shook her head, her good hand grabbing his arm. "I'm fine. Just ... just help me up." She turned her eyes away from Chris as Randy helped her stand, her boyfriend's arms wrapping around her in a quick hug. At least Chris assumed he was her boyfriend now.  
  
"Oh Baby," Randy cooed. "Here, let me see." He looked at her wrist, cradling it gently in his hand. "Come on, let's get you to the trainers. Just to make sure it's ok. Are you ok to walk? The pain's not too much? I can carry you if you want."  
  
A little giggle slipped from her lips as she smiled, shyly, her head ducked. "I'm fine, Randy. It just really hurts. Just ... just walk me back."  
  
"Alright, then." Randy answered with a smile and he ducked down, kissing her softly. "Are you sure?" he whispered. When she nodded, he wrapped his arm around Trish and he led her away from the fight and from Chris.  
  
Chris watched with panged eyes as Trish leaned into him and his heart clutched when she turned around, locking eyes with him. Her eyes were still sad. So sad and confused. But she only shook her head, curling a little further into Randy as she continued down the hall.

* * *

_He raced up the brick steps of his home, fiddling with his keys before finding the right one. He opened the front door, swinging it open and making sure it stayed that way. He turned his attention back to the car, his eyes widening in fright. "What are you doing?" he charged back down the stairs.  
  
Trish threw him an incredulous look as she tightly gripped the top of the passenger side door to keep her balance. Her right leg stuck out, her ankle wrapped heavily. "I'm getting out of the car. What does it look like I'm doing?"  
  
"No," He stopped right in front of her, slipping under her arm and supporting her. With ease, he whisked her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest. He gripped her waist tightly, his other arm ever so delicate under her knees; he acted as though she were made of glass. With a bump of the hip, he closed the passenger side door and slowly walked up the stairs.  
  
"Chris."  
  
He didn't answer her but instead continued walking. Once inside the house, he kicked closed the door then walked into the den. He lay her gently on the couch, making sure her head was high enough on the pillows and she situated herself even higher so her midback was resting against the arm of the couch.  
  
"Chris."  
  
"Here's an extra pillow." He said, ignoring her call as he gently placed his hand on her back, slipping a large pillow behind her so she could be more comfortable.  
  
"Chris."  
  
He glanced around the room, finding a few more spare pillows on the floor. "Here, we have to elevate your foot." With greatest care, he wrapped his arm around her ankle and calf, lifting her leg then placing the two pillows down. As if caring for the Queen, he placed her ankle on the pillows. "Is it high enough? Maybe I should get you some ice." He turned towards the doorway.  
  
"Chris!"  
  
He jostled at her command, his eyes meeting hers but he only twisted slightly. "I ... I have to get you some ice. Do you want some water too? Maybe a nice cup of tea. I'll make us a pot of coffee. No, you prefer tea don't you. I ..."  
  
"Chris!" she forced out again, a beautiful smile on her face as she laughed at him. "Just come here. Get ... here." She pointed at the floor space next to her.  
  
"What is it?" he asked, worried, walking to the space she pointed at. "Is there something wrong? Do you want a blanket?" He stopped at her side. "I'm gonna go get you a blanket."  
  
"No," she commanded, reaching out quickly to grab his wrist before he could flutter off. "Come here." She pulled hard on his wrist causing him to fall onto the couch, sitting at her side. "Just stay here a minute." She released his wrist to rub up his arm to his shoulder then down to clasp his hand, entwining their fingers. "Just sit with me."  
  
"But ..." he pulled slightly, as if to stand.  
  
"No," she stated, keeping him at her side. "Stay." She pouted that sweet adorable pout, her eyes batting momentarily as she tightened her hold on his hand, her other hand rubbing up his arm. "Just for a little while."  
  
He smiled, a soft chuckle escaping as he relaxed, but only a bit. "I can't pamper you if I stay. I want to pamper my wife and as long as I'm sitting here, I can't do that."  
  
"But I want you to stay here with me."  
  
"And who's going to make supper?"  
  
Her face contorted with disgust. "Yuck. How can you even think about eating?"  
  
He cocked his head, a single brow raised and he squeezed her hand. "Hunny, don't you know by now that I always think about eating."  
  
She snuggled into the pillow, still not releasing his hand. "Well now I want you to think about me and sitting here with me."  
  
"Fine." He conceded. "Are you going to let go of my hand? Or am I a prisoner of your will."  
  
She smiled. "I don't want to let go of your hand. And you should know by now that you're forever a prisoner of my will."  
  
He chuckled, leaning towards her, his eyes half closed as he moved closer and closer to her lips. "Well, that's ok with me too." He wrapped his lips around hers, sealing such a delicate kiss that she tightened her grip on him for only a moment, then released him.  
  
Her hands reached up, cupping either side of his face to keep him still as she leaned up into him. She felt her body lurch as he held the kiss even longer. So soft and sweet and sensual, she felt her toes curl, her muscles clenching as her need to pull him flush on top of her and ravage his mouth, to clutch at his body and ...  
  
But she couldn't.  
  
Feeling her relax completely, he pulled back ever so slightly and when only a few inches from her lips, he opened his eyes. Her eyes glistened with tears, affection and love. Chris only smiled. "You know something?" he asked.  
  
"What?" she breathed, her heart nearly beating in her throat, simply melting at the look in his eyes.  
  
He chuckled. "You let go of my hand." Instant mischief flashed in his eyes as he shot up off the couch.  
  
"Chris!" She commanded though her laughter nixed any conviction in her voice and she sat up, reaching desperately to try and catch him.  
  
He laughed, racing across the room then turning to her with a dancing expression.  
  
"Chris," she pouted, turning to glance over the back of the couch and she slammed her fist on the back. "That wasn't fair. I wanted you to stay here."  
  
He raised his brow, playfully. "And I want to make you dinner."  
  
She shifted slightly and her eyes widened, her lips parting in a gasp. She swore softly, turning her attention away from him and to her swollen ankle.  
  
Chris immediately ran around the couch, reaching out to help situate her ankle. "Damn it, Baby, I'm sorry. I ..." His words were cut off when a hand slipped into the back of his pants and a hoot slipped from his lips as he was yanked back. He grunted as he fell onto the couch, back at his position at her side but this time, both her hands clutched his. He eyed her, suspiciously. "That was mean."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Crying 'Wolf' like that. Next time, I might not come running."  
  
She giggled. "You know you will."  
  
He shook his head. "Cheap. Calling me on my only weakness."  
  
"What?" she laughed. "The fact that you're a real sissy like that and fret over nonsense."  
  
"No," he responded in full seriousness. "Maybe the fact you've got a really bad sprain because of that damned woman in that ring and I love you."  
  
Her eyes softened. "You love me?"  
  
His eyes widened with disbelief as he laughed. "I married you, woman, didn't I?"  
  
"I know," she said, softly. "But it's just always something special to hear it."  
  
"Well," He said in a huff as he pulled his hand from hers and crossed his arms. "It would be nice to hear it every once in a while too, you know."  
  
She sat up quickly, her hands cupping his face. "God, I love you." She sighed, pulling him to her and capturing his lips in a fire heated kiss.  
  
His eyes widened at first, shocked and surprised by her actions. But when she deepened the kiss, he let his eyes fall shut, his arms wrapping around her as he lowered her back onto the couch. Her hands tangled in his hair then ran down his body, pulling him on top of her.  
  
He broke the kiss. "Wait, what are you doing? I'll cruh..."  
  
"You won't hurt me." She interrupted. "Please, Chris. Please, just ..." she didn't finish her sentence but kissed him instead.  
  
He obeyed her wish, though settled on top of her gently, simply kissing and caressing her. Abandoning her lips, he kissed down her chin to her neck, finding the spot he always desired and sealing his lips there.  
  
Trish hissed.  
  
He pushed back, his eyes wide with fear. "I'm sorry. Did I ..."  
  
She fisted his hair, shaking her head. "That was good, Chris." She sighed, pulling his head back to her neck. "God, it was good."  
  
Chris hummed, his eyes closing as he resumed his task of adoring her neck. His lips danced and trailed a hot path along the side of her throat before moving up to her ear. He panted, breathing heavily into her ear, his heart racing. "I want you." He gruffed out, grinding into her to be sure she felt his need. "I want you so bad."  
  
She moaned his name, crashing her lips to his in a mind altering kiss. Tongues twining, bodies pressed close, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck to keep him in place. Their lips sore, their bodies trembling though neither yearned to stop.  
  
He pulled back when oxygen grew lax and he pressed his forehead to hers. "I don't want to hurt you." He said, doing his best to control his breath. "I'm afraid ... I'll hurt you."  
  
"You won't hurt me." She answered, curling her fingers into his hair, just to make sure he didn't pull away. "But there's something I want to tell you.  
  
"What?"  
  
She licked her lips, taking a few moments to regain herself. "Chris, we ... we've been married for ... for over a year."  
  
He nodded. "Sixteen months of absolute bliss." He answered then kissed her.  
  
She moaned, leaning into him and when he slipped his tongue past her lips, she trembled with need. Controlling herself, she pulled him back. "Chris, wait."  
  
He licked his lips, opening his eyes to meet hers. Once locking, he couldn't resist giving her one last passionate kiss, his tongue an ever present assault in her mouth as he rocked her body with intense lust.  
  
When he pulled back, she licked her lips, resisting every urge to just have her way with him that very moment. A smile pulled at her lips as she giggled. "You keep doing that, I'm gonna forget what I wanted to say."  
  
"Is that a bad thing?" he leaned down again, his lips hovering over hers.  
  
"I want to have a baby." She spat out before he could kiss her again.  
  
Shocked, he pushed up, looking down at her with a cock of the head. "What?"  
  
She flushed an even deeper shade of red. "It's just ... I'm getting older. I mean, I'm thirty, Chris, and I want to have children before it's too late." She sighed, looking up to meet his eyes. Her voice fell soft and soothing from her lips. "And I want you to be the father."  
  
He smiled, warmly. "Well, I am your husband and all."  
  
"You know what I mean."  
  
"Yeah," he sighed with a nod. "Yeah, I do. Well ..." He smiled that cocky smile, and he gave a nonchalant shrug. "We better get going quick then."  
  
She laughed, her hand tightening on his arms as he attacked her throat, nipping and growling as he tickled her in his mocked rush of passion. "Chris," she laughed, swatting at his hands. "Mercy ... Chris, mercy."  
  
He stopped that instant, stilling on her and settling deeply into her body with a content sigh. His eyes remained soft as his lips curled in a gentle smile. "I think I'll be a great Dad. If it's a girl, I'll spoil her rotten cuz she'd be Daddy's Little Girl. And ... if it's a boy. Well then we'll both have to find ways of stopping your heart and driving you crazy. So the more strapping young boys to love, the more fun I can have and get away with it. Sounds like a plan." He sat up then at her side, unfastening his pants. "Let's get to it. You need me to help you with yours?"  
  
She held her stomach, laughing hysterically as he stood, his pants falling around his ankles. "Oh God, Chris."  
  
He smiled, holding his laugh back as he bent over, attacking the fastens of her pants.  
  
She swatted his hands away. "Hey. Hey, cut it out."  
  
"You wanted to have kids. And this part will be necessary, though I can see why you wouldn't want to."  
  
She grabbed his wrists, pulling him down on top of her.  
  
He landed with a grunt, his head knocking against her shoulder. He pushed up to look in her eye. "That was awkward. Aren't I romantic in my clumsiness?"  
  
Her smile stayed beautiful and bright on her face as she slowly wrapped her arms around his neck, adoring the serious look that crossed his face. "Chris, make love to me. And you know how I like it."  
  
"Slow and sensual, Baby." He sighed then sealed their lips.  
_  
Chris opened his eyes, unmoving as he stared at the ceiling of his hotel room. Another night, another dream. And like all the others, this was a nightmare. Not like the other nightmares where creatures would rake and claw or anything would happen to scare him. No, this nightmare showed him what could have been. That he could have been happy with the woman who still claimed his heart.  
  
The tears slipped from his sleep haggard eyes. It would be another sleepless night.  
  
(Read, review, let me know) 


	16. July 12, 2004

Title: Endless Love  
  
Author: Crimson Coin   
  
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.  
  
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.  
  
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.  
  
Archiving: Ask me first.

* * *

July 12, 2004  
  
Tyson Tomko gritted his teeth, his shoulders tensed as he growled his frustration. "I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch."  
  
"Easy," Trish calmed, placing a small hand on the big man's arm. "Easy, just relax. It's all ok."  
  
"No, it's not." He countered. "That little punk and his bitch coulda hurt you tonight. Pulling you off the ring apron like that. I told you I didn't want you out there with me."  
  
"And what were you going to do, huh?" she teased with a smile. "Force me to stay back? You know that wouldn't have worked."  
  
He smiled a response. "You're probably right. But still. I don't want to see you hurt. Again."  
  
Trish jumped, her eyes flying to the door at a loud pound. Her head cocked as the door slammed again and she grabbed Tyson's hand.  
  
The big man's guard immediately rose and he stepped in front of Trish, reaching for the door handle and turning it.  
  
Kane roared, grabbing Chris Jericho by the throat and lifting the man into the air. Chris struggled though his efforts did little to stop his bigger opponent. A sinister smile spread across Kane's snarling lips. "How's this for a real man ... Chris?" With no resistance, Kane threw Chris across the concrete floor.  
  
Chris's limp body hit with a thud and he rolled clumsily a few feet before curling into himself. A violent cough shook his body and a panged groan slipped from his lips. Kane stepped closer, laughing maniacally.  
  
"No!" Trish cried and she threw herself at Jericho's side. Her eyes wide with fear she shook her head at Kane. Her good hand raised, she signaled for the big man to stay back while her cast rest protectively on Chris's body. "Please, Kane."  
  
Kane paused, cocking his head to eye this woman. Tyson did not hesitate to stand in front of Trish, toe to toe with the Big Red Machine. Tyson's teeth clenched as he prepared to fight. But Kane only laughed, raising his hands defensively as he stepped back and walked down the hall.  
  
Tyson expelled a breath he didn't realize he was holding then turned his eyes on the woman at his feet. Trish leaned over Jericho, looking in his face as she brushed his hair behind his ears.  
  
Trish licked her lips, twisting to look up at the man who always protected her. "Help me, Tyson." She pleaded, positioning herself at Jericho's head, slipping both her hands under his shoulders; Chris appeared unconscious.  
  
Tyson didn't respond at first but merely looked at her, curiosity and confusion in his eyes.  
  
"Please," she begged, a slight shake in her voice. "Please, help me."  
  
Without another question, Tyson knelt down, lifting Chris into his arms. He followed her wordlessly as she opened the locker room door and he obeyed her command to place him on the couch. As Trish scuttled to the sink, Tyson propped Jericho's head up, making sure that his limbs weren't twisted and that hopefully, he was comfortable. Tyson stepped back as Trish pushed past him and he watched coldly as the woman knelt at Jericho's side.  
  
Trish gently touched his cheek, her eyes scanning his body. "Chris?" She pushed some stray fibers from his face and away from a shallow cut on his forehead. With greatest care, she cupped the back of his neck. "Tyson? Tyson, can you just ... just hold his head up a minute?"  
  
He obeyed.  
  
Pulling the tie from her hair, Trish raked her fingers through Jericho's hair. Straightening and combing, she gently pulled the tangles from his ruffled mane then gathered it into a ponytail and tied it.  
  
Tyson spoke no words, but lay Jericho's head back onto the arm of the couch and he stepped back.  
  
"Chris?" Trish called again, picking up the cool face cloth she'd just moistened. Patting his face, she wiped the sweat from his brow, cheeks, lips and the blood from his forehead and nose. "Come on," she coaxed, gently. "Open your eyes."  
  
She redipped the cloth but this time didn't wring it out. The cold liquid dripped freely as she wiped his chest then back to his face; Chris stirred.  
  
Her eyes brightened and she wet the cloth again, this time, wiping under his eyes then back through his hair.  
  
A pained moan slipped from his lips and his hand reached for the back of his neck. "Son of a ..." he muttered then shifted his weight.  
  
"Chris?"  
  
A soft smile tugged at his lips as he inhaled deeply and he forced his eyes open. The angered glare of Tyson Tomko met him first and Chris swallowed hard, immediately fidgeting. He had to stand. He had to defend himself. But a soft female hand pressed into his chest, stilling his actions.  
  
"Don't move."  
  
His brow furrowed at the voice and he gasped when he saw her. Frightened at first, he sank further into the couch, unsure of exactly her intentions.  
  
"Are you alright?" she asked, softly. "Kane nearly killed you out there. If I hadn't ... if Tyson hadn't stopped him, he wouldn't have left you alone."  
  
Confused, Chris pushed himself further up in the couch, trying to sit.  
  
"Don't," she commanded in a gently voice. "Don't get up too fast."  
  
He stilled then, his eyes darting from Trish to Tomko before eventually settling back on the woman. "Tomko stopped Kane?"  
  
Tyson laughed. "I was willing to let Kane beat the shit outta you." Then his manner toughened, defensive as his eyes narrowed. "But when Kane tossed you to the ground, she threw herself between you and him. And I wasn't bound to let anything happen to her. Even if it was because she was defending an asshole like you."  
  
"You did that?" Chris asked, turning his full attention on Trish.  
  
Trish didn't respond but kept her head bowed, and she fiddled with some cloth bandages. Clearing her throat, she licked her lips then lifted the bandage. "Lay back. I'm just gonna patch you up."  
  
He watched her carefully, obeying her. She reached out, placing a sterile piece of gauze on his cut. The cloth tape screeched and she used her teeth to rip off one piece then another. Being careful not to catch any loose strands of hair, she taped the gauze to his head. Tilting his head slightly, he made sure to catch her eyes. "Thank you."  
  
She didn't acknowledge him and stood, turning towards Tyson.  
  
"Trish?"  
  
"Shh," she commanded, silencing Chris with a finger. "Tyson? Someone's coming." She hustled quick, moving around the other side of the couch. Tyson grabbed the arm of the couch and with a grunt, he lifted one side. His teeth clenched with his strain, but Tyson moved quickly, swinging the couch around so that its back faced the door, and anyone who entered couldn't see Chris lying on the cushions.  
  
The door swung open. "Where's my girl?"  
  
Chris clenched his teeth at the voice he recognized as Randy Orton and he suppressed a growl when he heard what could only be a kiss.  
  
"Hi, Sweetie." Trish cooed. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I had to come by." Randy said with some concern. "When that bitch pulled you off the apron, it looked like you almost hit your wrist. Are you ok? Does it hurt?"  
  
"I'm fine." Trish answered, watching as he cupped her cast in his hands, turning it carefully to examine it. "I'm always a little sore and now it's kinda stiff."  
  
"That's it getting better." Randy said then smiled at her. He turned his nose to the air, sniffing a few times.  
  
"What?" Trish asked, looking at herself. "Do I stink?"  
  
"No, he answered with a laugh. "I smell ... like men's cologne or something."  
  
Tyson stood at Chris's side, his arms crossed over his chest. "Well, I am a man."  
  
Randy smiled. "I know you are. It's just that you don't usually where cologne or scented deodorants or anything. At least I never smelled it on you."  
  
Tyson met Trish's worried frightened eyes for a moment. With a smile, he gave a soft chuckle. "And what? I can't try to attract women now?"  
  
"Don't get all defensive." Randy laughed. "I'm just saying that's all."  
  
Chris furrowed his brow. That scent was him. He always wore cologne and Tyson covered for him. Tyson Tomko lied ... to protect him. Tyson glanced down quickly, meeting Chris's eyes with a silencing warning glance then his demeanor lightened, looking back across the room.  
  
"So ..." Randy teased. "Come back to my locker room. We'll hang out there. Hunter's got a big surprise for Eugene tonight that I got to stick around for. But we can leave right after that."  
  
"Sounds good." Trish answered. "Just let me get my bag."  
  
She walked over to Tyson, giving the big man a hug and whispered something in his ear. Chris didn't know what she said, but Tyson gave a slow nod and she smiled at him. Lifting her bag with her good hand, Trish shouldered it. Turning, she locked eyes with Jericho for a mere moment and then walked towards Randy.  
  
Chris didn't move or respond, even when he heard the door close behind them. Tyson stood unmoving, unwavering as if standing guard. A long minute passed and eventually Tyson sighed, looking down at the blonde man. "They're probably in his locker room now. You can leave."  
  
Chris sat up slowly, touching the bandage on his head before staring at the floor a few moments. With a sigh, he stood and cocked his head, eying the bigger man. "You could kick my ass right now."  
  
"That I could." Tyson answered, not meeting his gaze. "But she wouldn't like that." He turned away, walking to his locker and packing his bag.  
  
"And that's stopping you."  
  
"Of course it is." Tyson answered coolly. Straightening, he sighed, turning to face Chris. "Look. I don't like you. I never will. You hit her. I hate you. End of story."  
  
Chris bowed his head, shamed by the big man's gruff response. "Does she still hate me?"  
  
"Obviously not." Tyson said, his voice laced in sarcasm. "She threw herself on your unconscious corpse to keep Kane from touching you again."  
  
Chris winced, feeling the cold hatred flood through his body. He sighed sadly, shaking his head as he looked at the other man. Their eyes locking for only a few moments before Tyson quickly looked away. Understanding filled Chris. "You love her, don't you."  
  
"Irrelevant."  
  
"You do." Chris said. "I see it in your eyes. You do."  
  
"It doesn't matter whether I do or not." Tyson answered with depression in his voice as he met Chris's eyes. He offered a sad smile. "She's not mine to love."  
  
Chris felt a panged realization at those words.

* * *

Lita sat on the bench in the women's locker room, a cell phone in hand. Tears in her eyes, her body trembling, her heart aching, she couldn't bring herself to call. She didn't know how long she sat, staring at his number, her thumb hovering over the 'send' button. All she knew is that when everything went wrong, whenever she was sad, he was the only person she could talk to. He was the only person she could think of that could help her. She didn't want to call him, after all this time, but she needed to. She had to. She missed him.  
  
Her mind made up, she clicked that button and raised the cell to her ear.  
  
RING  
  
Her leg bounced, jittery with her nerves and she sucked her lower lip into her mouth, chewing on it lightly.  
  
RING  
  
"Come on. Come on, pick up." She said to herself and she swallowed hard.  
  
RING  
  
Nerves tightened and a few beads of sweat pricked at her brow.  
  
RING  
  
She wiped her mouth with her hand then raked her fingers through her hair. A click resounded over the phone.  
  
'Hey. You've reached me. Can't get to the phone now so just leave one. You know what to do'  
  
BEEP  
  
Lita licked her lips, more than nervous. "Jeff? It's ... it's me. I ... I know you're there. Pick up. Please, please pick up." She paused, waiting. There was no answer. "I know you're there and I know that I've been ignoring you and I don't mean to, I really don't."  
  
Still no answer.  
  
She cleared her throat. "I miss you, Jeff. I really do. And I miss the times we had and how we would talk and ... I ... I just miss you. And I don't want you to go to TNA and I want you here. Here with me. And with Matt. And with everyone." She sighed. "I do love you, Jeff. Please ... call me."  
  
Slowly lowering the phone, Lita pressed the end button, her eyes fixed on the flashing time. The 1:16 her phone call had lasted.

* * *

RING  
  
Jeff Hardy lazily glanced to his left at the obnoxiously ringing telephone.  
  
RING  
  
He wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone. He took another long drag of the blunt between his fingers, holding it as long as he could before exhaling.  
  
RING  
  
Why couldn't people get the message? He didn't want to be bothered.  
  
RING  
  
To hell with them. The machine would pick it up.  
  
'Hey. You've reached me. Can't get to the phone now so just leave one. You know what to do'  
  
BEEP  
  
"Jeff? It's ... it's me. I ... I know you're there. Pick up. Please, please pick up." She paused, waiting. There was no answer. "I know you're there and I know that I've been ignoring you and I don't mean to, I really don't."  
  
His eyes narrowed as he recognized her voice, Lita's voice. What the hell was she trying to pull? She didn't care. She wasn't sorry.  
  
"I miss you, Jeff. I really do. And I miss the times we had and how we would talk and ... I ... I just miss you. And I don't want you to go to TNA and I want you here. Here with me. And with Matt. And with everyone." She sighed. "I do love you, Jeff. Please ... call me."  
  
"Love me!" He hollered at the answering machine. "Love Me!" He laughed, almost psychotic as his voice rang hauntingly through his bedroom. "You never loved me." He swiped his hand across the bed stand, knocking everything onto the floor, the phone off the hook and the telephone cord from the wall.  
  
He fell back onto the bed, his eyes bloodshot and ragged, the blunt still smoking between his fingers.

* * *

_He inhaled deeply, peaking around the large trunk of a tree. Gently, he placed his hands on the rough bark, leaning a little further to keep his balance. He curled his toes into the cool grass, the cold moisture-covered strands hugging his bare feet and tickling up around his ankles.  
  
The air swirled crisp and clean, prickling at his bare chest, causing the hairs to stand on end. Though if it were the cool night air of the sight of her, he was unsure.  
  
She stood at the edge of a shimmering pool, that same cool grass surrounding its edges. Lily pads scattered randomly along the shore, a few blossoms budding towards the night sky. Ancient trees stood proud and wise, their existence a testament to the age of this place. The night sky shimmered with beauteous stars, the moon this glen's only source of light.  
  
She stretched into the air, her hands flipping back her golden hair and the moonlight hugged every part of her body, embracing her into nature's most wonderful creation. Her skin glistened with tiny driblets of water; she'd just immerged from the water. Standing nude in the moonlight, she truly was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen.  
  
He ducked back behind the tree. She was so beautiful he was unworthy of even watching her. Scratching his chest, the muscles jumped and quivered. Gathering himself, he peaked around the tree again.  
  
She lay on the grass, her back arched and head tilted back, absorbing the naturalness around her. A nymph, a most beautiful elf, she appeared so perfect, not a single flaw.  
  
He licked his lips, his eyes widening with pleasure as he watched her dress. Modest black sheer undergarments accentuated every curve. A silver sheer silken robe hung off her shoulders and brushed along the ground. A simple knot tied at the waist kept everything closed; she was exquisite.  
  
Her chocolate brown eyes searched the heavens for but a moment and then looked towards him. A modest yet knowing smile spread onto her face. "Do you plan to only watch me all evening?"  
  
His eyes widened and he let out a gasp.  
  
"I know you're there." She said.  
  
Sighing, he stepped out from behind the tree, his head bowed like a scolded dog. "I'm sorry I was snooping. But I saw you and just couldn't help myself."  
  
Her smile softened. "Come here." She beckoned.  
  
He couldn't resist. Walking slowly, he approached her. He wiped his hands on his jeans, then raked his fingers nervously through his hair. "I didn't mean to upset you." He whispered.  
  
"You didn't upset me." She answered sweetly, tilting his chin up to place a soft kiss on his mouth. "Not at all. On the contrary, I'm quite flattered."  
  
"You're a beautiful woman." He responded, his eyes fluttering as she brushed her fingers along his cheek. "And I'm only a man."  
  
Her smile managed to sweeten and she trailed her hands down his chest, resting on his abs. "What are you doing here, awake at this hour?"  
  
"I should ask you the same thing."  
  
She shrugged, nonchalantly. "I couldn't sleep. I felt like a midnight swim."  
  
"I couldn't sleep either." He chuckled then and his eyes flashed with mischief. "So I watched you have a midnight swim."  
  
She chuckled in response, an amused smile on her face. "Well, was it worth it?"  
  
"You have no idea."  
  
She gave a hearty laugh then stepped back from him. "I take it that's a good thing." She teased then sat on the babbling pool's edge, letting her feet dangle into the cool water. "It's very nice you know. Why don't you take a dip?"  
  
He smiled, unable to resist. Modest and shy, he slowly unbuttoned his pants, pushing them to the ground and stepping out of them. "Don't look." He teased and she closed her eyes to pacify him.  
  
"I'm not looking." She said, swaying her feet in the water.  
  
"I know." He said, sputtering the water from his lips as he surfaced at her feet.  
  
She giggled, looking lovingly down on him as he swam to her legs, resting his wet arms on her thighs. "You're going to get me all wet."  
  
"I like you that way." He answered, placing a soft kiss to her thigh.  
  
She shook her head, her smile stretching from ear to ear. "I can't believe you just said that."  
  
"I mean in this." He clarified, holding up the thin fabric of her robe. "When this is wet it just clings to you and makes you all the more sexy."  
  
"Isn't it nice in there." She said, moving the direction of the conversation forward then looked up at the treetops and into the night sky. "It's just so beautiful here."  
  
He lifted himself out of the pool with ease and stood, wringing the water from his hair. "That it is."  
  
She patted the ground at her back. "Come. Sit behind me."  
  
"But I'm all wet." He said with a chuckle.  
  
Her eyes met his mischievously. "I like you that way."  
  
He only shook his head, doing as she asked and sitting behind her. "Like this?"  
  
"You're not close enough." She answered, snuggling further back into his chest, making sure his legs were to either side of her. She grabbed his wrists then, tightening his arms around herself and she sighed, pleasurably. "Just like this. This is nice."  
  
"You know this might not be a good idea."  
  
"Why's that?" she asked, seductively.  
  
"Because of what you're wearing and what I'm wearing and exactly what you do to me."  
  
She smiled, sighing and leaning back into him, her head tilted back onto her shoulder so she could look at the stars. "Oh Chris, it's just so breathtaking here. I never want to leave."  
  
"There's stars everywhere, Sweetheart." He whispered into her ear.  
  
"Not like this." She breathed. "Not like tonight. It's just ... It's so beautiful. The sounds, the crickets and the water and just the sound of night. And that smell. That fresh natural smell and the chill. I love it here. It's like our own private hideaway."  
  
He tightened his arms, pulling her more tightly into his body and nuzzled up to her ear, brushing his lips along the shell.  
  
She hummed her approval. "The chill that nips at the skin but here ... in your arms ... there's only warmth. And look at the trees and the grass and the moon and the stars. I've never seen anything more beautiful."  
  
"I have," he cooed gently. His tongue peaked out, swirling around her ear before his lips sealed a long sweet kiss. His arms tightened and his hands slipped under her silken robe. His rough calloused palms caressed the smooth taut skin of her abdomen, loving in his treatment of her body.  
  
"Chris," she sighed, collapsing into him as she reached up, cupping the back of his neck.  
  
He mumbled a series of inaudible words then continued with his task, kissing at every part of her ear before working down her neck, attaching his mouth to the perfect spot of her throat.  
  
Her fingers raked through his hair, gripping the back of his head so he couldn't move and her body shuddered against him.  
  
Nibbling, nipping, sucking and licking, he worked the spot on her neck until a muted moan slipped past her lips. "Trish," he breathed, kissing her ear softly again. "Complete my perfection."  
  
Her head bowed as his hands moved and she cocked her head, strangely as she stared at his fingers and what he was holding. She gasped.  
  
The ring shimmered with water droplets, the diamond sparkling in the moonlight. He held the thin gold band between his thick fingers, presenting her with greatest hope.  
  
With a shaky hand, she took the ring from him, staring at it in disbelief. She still gave him no answer, but sat awed at his gift.  
  
"Be my wife." He whispered. "Be mine forever."  
  
Fresh tears fell from her eyes and still, she didn't respond.  
  
He gently grabbed her left wrist, his other hand taking the ring. "Here." He offered and with an excruciating pace, he slipped the ring on her finger, giving her more than enough time to stop him, if she wished.  
  
She didn't. She stared at the ring on her finger, how perfectly it fit. She turned in his arms, quickly.  
  
He gave a crooked smile but choked on his words as her lips suddenly found his. Hard and passionately, she kissed him, lifting up for leverage to push him onto his back. He didn't resist her, his arms bound around her body, holding her to him as he returned her kiss with equal need.  
  
She wasted no time, tearing the robe from her body. She broke the kiss to breathe, struggling with her undergarments. He cupped her face, sealing their mouths again as she kicked the final obstacle away then pushed down his boxers. Her toes hooking into the waistband, she helped him get them off then settled fully into him. He growled at the feel of flesh against flesh and she responded by intensifying the kiss. Desperate for him, she took him in her hand, readying him and herself.  
  
"No," he said, pulling back from her and when she moved to complete them, he gripped her hips, stilling her actions.  
  
"Please, Chris." She begged, rocking her hips into him and he had to resist the urge to just slam into her and let her have her way with him. "Please."  
  
But he gathered all his will and shook his head. "No. Not like this. Not this time." He rolled them over, settling his full weight on her smaller body.  
  
She swallowed hard as he pressed his forehead to hers. "Why?" she asked, a tinge of hurt in her voice as she draped her arms over his neck. "You ... you don't want me?"  
  
He licked his lips, catching his breath. Every curve, every inch of her body touched his and he had to keep reminding himself to stay in control. "I want you more than life." He answered, then licked his kiss-swollen lips again. "But we're always like animals. I don't want to be like that anymore."  
  
She felt her stomach lurch against his, her hips instinctively rocking, begging for his fill. "But there's no pleasure any other way."  
  
"That's not true." He answered with a shake of the head. "Have you ever made slow sensual love to a man? Have you ever let a man make slow sensual love to you?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Then if you didn't get any pleasure. He wasn't any good." He kissed her so sweetly and softly that she barely felt it, just the slightest touch of his lips to hers. "I'll show you how good it can be. You've never felt pleasure like this before. I'm going to bring you ..." he smiled. "You, my wife, absolute ecstasy. He sealed their lips.  
  
A rough hand grabbed his shoulder, hurling him back and with wide eyes, he watched as he was tossed away from her. He landed on the ground with a grunt. Fear struck his core.  
  
She lay motionless on the ground, helpless and unmoving. A monstrous creature hovered over her. His cloven feet weighed heavy on the ground. Great horns sprung from the beast's head, his eyes burning red and his mouth a snarling grin. Huge and muscular, the beasts arms resembled that of a man, the skin of its torso a molten black, the hair on its legs a chestnut brown.  
  
Chris staggered to his feet, his need to protect his beloved weighing strong. But he couldn't move. Vines crept up his legs, rooting him to the grass and as two vines trailed up his body, each wrapped around his arms, pulling him to all fours on the ground. He was trapped.  
  
The beast laughed, grabbing her with a rough hand and lifted her against its muscled chest. "She'll never be yours."  
  
"No," Chris struggled against his restraints. Why wouldn't she fight? Why wouldn't she resist?  
  
But the beast just shook its head, its eyes dancing with victory. "She was mine a long time ago. And she'll always be mine."  
  
The beast let out a loud roar, lifting the woman into the air before lying her back on the grass. The beast then knelt down on all fours, hovering over her possessively. The beast's head reared back, its hips bucking.  
  
"No," Chris breathed, stunned to nauseated sickness. He watched as the beast continued to heave, an erect penis immerging from its fur covered hips. "No, no no."  
  
The beast laughed, settling completely on top of the woman and its eyes flared with lust and wanting as it looked at Chris. "She'll always be mine. And you can never take her away."  
  
The beast thrust.  
_  
"NO!" Chris screamed, bolting upright in his bed, the sweat pouring off his body. His eyes wildly searched the room, looking one way then the next, though what he was looking for, he didn't know.  
  
His breathing eventually slowed, his body stilled and he slumped back onto the bed. Shaking his head, he quickly stood and staggered into the bathroom. Flipping the light, he leaned against the sink, staring haggardly into the mirror.  
  
His eyes were bloodshot, blackened bags circling under his usually vibrant blue eyes. His face was drawn, worn. His hair hanging straggly and tangled from his recent bout with a nightmare.  
  
He blinked a few times, staring into his own eyes. "You fucking loser. You're fucking weak. You're weak and pathetic." He condemned, snarling at his reflection. "Can't get a girl outta your head ... can't get a fucking life. Can't ..."  
  
"Shut Up!" he hollered at himself, shaking his head fiercely to rid his mind of that horrid vision, whatever it was. "Shut up! You don't know!"  
  
Chris bowed his head into his hands, falling to his knees. Tired, sorrowed, and weary, he couldn't even stand.  
  
(That's it for this chapter. Tell me what you think. Can you see my direction yet?) 


	17. July 19, 2004

Title: Endless Love  
  
Author: Crimson Coin   
  
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.  
  
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.  
  
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.  
  
Archiving: Ask me first.

* * *

July 19, 2004  
  
Trish Stratus felt her heart collapse as she watched the screen, helpless to what was happening. Dave Batista had just tossed Chris Jericho into the wooden siding of the ice arena. Wide-eyed, she gasped as the big monster landed a devastating clothesline to Jericho's head, the blonde collapsing to the ground.  
  
She jumped when a heavy hand rested on her shoulder and she quickly looked back over that shoulder. Tyson Tomko looked down on her with concern and Trish bowed her head, avoiding her eyes. She had forgotten she was in Evolution's locker room.  
  
Triple H stood in the corner, a cell to his ear and Randy stretched along the far wall. Neither had noticed her actions. She looked up to scan the room and worry filled her. Ric Flair held her stare, a knowing look on his elderly face. Terrified, she ducked her head, staring at her entwined hands. Had Ric seen something? But it shouldn't matter. There was nothing to see. She wasn't concerned with Chris Jericho.  
  
Sighing, she sank further into the couch.  
  
"Ok, Babe." Randy said, coming over to her and pecking her lips. "I'm off. Wish me luck."  
  
"Good Luck, Baby." She said, half-heartedly.  
  
He cocked his head, a worried look on his face and he sat next to her. Draping his arm over her shoulder, he pulled her against him. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing." She answered, quickly.  
  
"I know something's wrong. Come on. Tell me."  
  
"It's nothing, Randy. Now just leave me alone." She snapped.  
  
He was taken aback by her sudden outburst. Hurt and dejected, he stood. Not responding or even looking at her, he walked from the room.  
  
Trish shook her head, silently scolding herself with a curse. "Randy?" She stood, rushing to the door and peaking out. But all the greeted her was his back as he turned a corner, not even acknowledging her call.  
  
She sighed, turning back into the locker room and letting the door close. Expelling a shaky breath, she brought her cast protectively against her chest as her other hand pressed into her eyes.  
  
She didn't react when a heavy hand weighed on her shoulder again. This time she willingly gave in as Tyson pulled her into his arms for a comforting hug. "Shhh," he hushed. "Don't worry. It's ok."  
  
"I'm so confused." She said softly, her eyes still closed as she faintly hugged him back.  
  
"Come here, Little Girl."  
  
Trish looked up.  
  
Ric Flair patted the cushion next to him on the couch. "Come here. Let's have a talk."  
  
Reluctant, she released Tyson and fell into the seat next to the older man. Tyson left the room with Triple H.  
  
Ric sighed, leaning back into the couch, his eyes distant on the far wall. "You don't care for him do you?" When she gave no answer, he clarified. "Randy, I mean. You don't care for him the same way that he cares for you."  
  
Trish ducked her head into her hands, guilty that someone had seen the truth.  
  
He closed his eyes a moment, gathering his emotions. He did not want to yell at her or scold her or preach. Instead, he wrapped a fatherly arm around her shoulder. "There, there."  
  
"I didn't mean for this to happen." She said softly, fighting her tears. "I don't want to hurt anybody. But that's all that I end up doing. Hurting people."  
  
Ric nodded.  
  
"I do care about him." She defended, her head turned to look at him. "I do. How can I not? He's been nothing but sweet to me. And I know he cares. God, he probably loves me."  
  
"He does."  
  
Trish shook her head. "And that makes this all the more difficult."  
  
"Randy's a good kid." Ric said with sincerity. "Yes, he can be arrogant and immature at times. But we all have our moments."  
  
"I don't want to hurt him." Trish said, her eyes glistening with tears. "I just don't want to hurt him."  
  
Ric offered a sad smile. "And the longer this continues, the more he's going to love you and the more that this is going to hurt him. It's Chris, isn't it. You're still in love with him."  
  
Trish bowed her head.  
  
"It's nothing to be ashamed about." Ric said, comfortingly. "It really isn't. I understand. I understand how you can still feel this way and it's not a bad thing. But you need to realize what you want. And who you want. And don't let anybody tell you otherwise."  
  
"Watching Dave go out there and attack him." Trish began. "My heart bursts every time I see him hurt. How he faltered when he landed on his feet during the lionsault. That's the same knee he hurt rescuing me from Kane. It still bothers him to this day and that was months ago. And it's my fault and I'm feel so guilty that I'm not there to take care of him. But then again, I don't know if he wants me there."  
  
"And what about everything that happened? What he did and who you are?"  
  
"I don't care." Trish answered. "I ... I must be foolish but I can't hate him for it. I understand and from the look of him ... God, Ric, have you seen him lately? I wouldn't be surprised if he hasn't slept in weeks. He's been so off in the ring and he's just ... I'm so worried about him. Can ... can you ask Dave to stop?"  
  
Ric shook his head. "Dave's motivations are far beyond what you think they are. He has a grudge with Chris and I'm not going to get between them."  
  
Trish furrowed her brow.  
  
"Dave was seeing a girl in the company about a year, year and a half ago. They were together behind the scenes though, nobody knew about them. Chris didn't know that she was taken but he pushed one of his friends to make a move on her. Pushed them together, you know. And not two weeks later, she left Dave for that man. Dave's held a grudge ever since. He can't be mad at her; he still loves her. But Chris. He blames Chris and he certainly can be mad at him. And he's taking out his aggression. Frankly, I have no intention of stepping between Dave and anyone he has his sights on."  
  
"But Dave's had to have moved on. He ... He wears a wedding ring. Who's the girl he married?"  
  
"Dave's not married." Ric said with a sad smile. "He bought the band about five months after she left him. Said he never wanted to love again, never wanted anything more to do with women. So by wearing the ring, it makes him unavailable."  
  
There was silence a long few moments and Trish shook her head. "That's so sad. Isn't ... isn't there anything we can do? Chris didn't know. And I'm sure that if he did, he wouldn't have done anything. Who was she? Maybe I can talk to her for him."  
  
"It doesn't matter." Ric answered. "It's over now and she's still with that guy. I don't think you can convince her otherwise. Plus, in all honesty, if she loved Dave ... she wouldn't have left him no matter who was introduced to her."  
  
"True." Trish said sadly. Sighing, she stood. "I'm going to go find Randy. I ... I need to apologize. I know he only cares."  
  
"Make up your mind soon, Little Girl." Ric said, seriously. "I'm not going to get involved and I know my boy is going to get hurt one way or another. I can just hope he handles it better than Dave."  
  
Trish smiled. "Thank you, Ric." She leaned down, kissing him softly on the cheek. "You won't tell? About all this?"  
  
Ric shook his head. "Not on you, Little Girl. Your secret's safe with me. Just try to keep your guard up better when it comes to Chris. Ok?"  
  
Trish nodded.

* * *

"I only cared." Randy said to no one, staring at the wall of the darkened backstage curtain. He stood by the entrance ramp, waiting for his match. He was early, but he didn't care. He shook his head, his teeth clenched as he punched one of the empty crates.  
  
"Randy?"  
  
He exhaled a slow breath, turning at the sound of her voice. Trish stood before him, fear in her eyes and she reached out, touching his arm. His eyes focused on her hand, on the spot of his arm where she touched.  
  
"I didn't mean to snap. I ... I'm just so confused and I've had a rough day."  
  
Randy reached out, running his fingers over her cast. "How does it feel?"  
  
"Just a little sore," she answered, pulling her cast protectively against her chest. "I'm fine."  
  
He sighed, defeated. "Why do you lie to me? I go to try and pamper you because I know you're hurting and you brush it off like it's nothing. I know it hurts and you're not fine. You punched someone out there with it – twice. And you used it to trip up Hurricane. That had to have hurt. Can't you just tell me the truth. Tell me that it hurts."  
  
She ducked her head.  
  
"I'm sorry." He apologized, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. "I didn't mean to bark like that. I just ... I'm frustrated because you don't treat me like your boyfriend. You treat me like I'm just that guy who you hang around with and we just happen to have sex."  
  
"Well I'm sorry, ok?" She answered, hurt and slight force in her voice. "I'm sorry that I can't just drop everything and fall into your arms like everything's ok. Because it's not. I'm not ok, Randy. I never was. Ever. I can't trust people, I can't bear my soul, and I hate attention because it scares me to death. I'm scared, Randy. I'm scared because I don't know what I want much less who I want it from." She sighed, raking a hand through her hair. "I care about you. I do. But so much has happened to me in the last year, I ..."  
  
When she trailed off, he swore to himself, scolding himself for being so insensitive. "I'm sorry." He said, cupping her face in his hands and tilting her eyes up to gaze into them. Holding her beautiful brown eyes with his, he brushed his thumbs along her cheeks, wiping away the tears. "I'm sorry. I ... I didn't know." He leaned down, kissing her sweetly, softly and long before gathering her into his arms, just hugging her. "I'm sorry," he whispered into her ear.  
  
Trish wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on her toes to bury her face into his neck for a moment. Sniffling, she eased him back, letting her fingers run along his chest and abs before her hands dropped to her side. "I'm really exhausted. I ... I'm gonna go back to our room to think and just relax."  
  
Randy nodded. "Do ... do you want me there tonight?"  
  
"It's up to you. Do you want to be there?"  
  
"Always," he answered without hesitation. "I tell you what," he smiled, running his hands up and down her arms as he gazed affectionately down at her. "On my way back, I'll pick up a pizza and some soda and we'll stay in and watch cheesy horror movies. How's that sound?"  
  
She offered a genuine smile. "That sounds great." Pausing, she couldn't take her eyes off him, off the love and sincerity in his eyes. "I ... I'll see you then."  
  
"Trish," he grabbed her arm before she could leave and when she turned back to him, she gasped at how close he was. Her breath raced and she could feel his do the same, his warm moist breath tickling her face. He leaned down then, slowly and slower still until his lips just hovered over hers. Her eyes fell closed, her lips parting and he flicked his tongue out, teasing her upper lip. "Trish, just remember. I'm here. And you can be brutally ... honest ... with me."  
  
She sighed as their lips met and her body sagged against him, helpless as he held her lips, deepening the kiss until her body ached. His arms bound around her, his hard body pressed close and protectively, he intensified the kiss until Trish was seeing stars; he felt so good.  
  
When his breath ran short, he slowed the kiss, excruciating in his loving treatment until finally their lips broke apart. "I'll see you tonight." He panted into her open mouth then placed one last soft kiss on her lips.  
  
Trish swallowed hard, forcing herself to walk away. She couldn't even look back over her shoulder at him.

* * *

Jeff Hardy leaned casually against the wall of the arena. He didn't want to come tonight. He didn't want to risk running into Lita or Matt. But he had to explain himself to one person. When she rounded the corner, he pushed off the wall, his eyes sad and drawn as they met hers across the hallway.  
  
"Jeff?"  
  
She sounded as though she'd seen a ghost. And from his appearance, he probably looked like one. He certainly felt like he'd been to hell and back.  
  
"Jeff." Trish sighed, falling into his arms and hugging him tightly. "Oh Jeff, I ... I never ..." she couldn't finish her sentence, her throat clogging from tears.  
  
"I had to come see you." He answered, void of emotion.  
  
She pushed back from him, her eyes full of worry and concern as she look up into his once vibrant eyes. "My God, what's happened to you?"  
  
He offered a sad smile then took her hand. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. But I wanted to talk to you, before I couldn't."  
  
"Couldn't?" Confused, she cocked her head. "What do you mean, couldn't? Are you ok? Do you need something? Just ask, Jeff. Anything and it's yours."  
  
He shook his head, silencing her with a soft gaze. "I don't need anything. At least not something you could give."  
  
"What ... what's that supposed to mean?"  
  
He waved off that question. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. But just trust me on this one."  
  
"Are you here for good?" Trish asked, her hands clutching his arms in fear that he would leave. "Are you back for good? Are you coming back to us? We all need you here. More than you could ever know. I know I do and your brother and Lita ..."  
  
He sneered at the name.  
  
Trish reached up, brushing her fingers over his cheek. "What? You're not coming back. Oh God, don't tell me you're going to Tennessee. You're going to that other company, aren't you?"  
  
"To be honest, I don't know yet. I have until Wednesday."  
  
"Don't go." She begged. "Please, don't go. I ... I don't know what I'd do."  
  
"You'd be fine." He answered, sincerely. "I know you would. And frankly, I can't be here. I can't be here and watch ... watch all this shit happen and there's not a damn thing I could do about it."  
  
"Not if you were here." She said, quickly. "If you were here, you could stop Kane and you could help everyone who needs it and do your damnedest to protect those who love you."  
  
"Love," he scoffed. "Nobody loves me."  
  
"I love you."  
  
He shook his head. "No, you don't. You care for me. But you don't love me."  
  
"There's more than romantic love, Jeff." Trish said, hurtfully. "Just because I don't love you like that, doesn't mean I don't love you."  
  
Jeff closed his eyes, bowing his head. "I'm sorry. I'm just ... I'm hurt right now. But I can't stay. I don't want them to see me."  
  
"You ... you're not going to look for Matt or Lita?"  
  
He shook his head. "I couldn't stomach the sight of them right now."  
  
She cupped his cheek, forcing him to look up at her. "What happened?" she asked, seriously, knowing that something had happened that she didn't know about.  
  
"I can't come back." He said, sadly, leaning down to press his forehead to hers. "I want to. But I can't. Because I'm not strong enough."  
  
"Strong enough for what?" she asked, draping her arms around his neck. "I'm here for you, Jeff. Whatever you need."  
  
He swallowed hard, his voice shaking with intensity and sorrow. "Lita said she despised me."  
  
"When?" Trish said, angered. "When did she say that? I don't believe it."  
  
"Last week." He said. "Didn't you hear her? On the Highlight Reel?"  
  
Trish shook her head, her nose brushing against his with the action. "No, she said she hated Kane. She hated being impregnated by a man she despi ..."  
  
There was silence.  
  
"Jeff?" Trish's voice trembled with worry and fear.  
  
He sighed, sniffling back the tears. "She came to me. Came to my bed for two full weeks. I made love to her, Trish. I did what I always dreamed of and I told her I loved her and that I'd make everything ok. I was ready to come back for her. We knew she was pregnant before she even got back together with Matt. We found out the day she had that mixed tag match with him ... the day that Kane set his sights on her."  
  
Trish couldn't respond.  
  
Jeff expelled another shaky breath, finding his voice. "He rescued her and it's as if nothing ever changed. She ran back to his arms and back to his bed. Disposed of me. It's only a couple weeks ... hah, days difference between my bed and his. Matt would never know that the child isn't his. And Kane thinks it's his. But it's mine. That's my child. My child that I thought we created out of love."  
  
As the tears spilt from his eyes, Trish pulled his head to her shoulder, comforting him with a fierce hug. She felt the tears in her own eyes. Damn that Lita. Damn her for doing this to him. To someone as wonderful as Jeff.  
  
Trish knew she was no saint, she knew she had faults. But she had never done something so low before. As Jeff's shoulders trembled, she held him tighter. She didn't know what else to do.

* * *

Chris Jericho laughed sinisterly as he lounged in the armchair of his hotel room. His eyes locked on his reflection in the mirror across the room. He raised his liter bottle of soda, toasting nothing. "Think you're going to best me tonight, huh?" he taunted then popped two pills into his mouth and chugged the soda.  
  
"Take that!" He declared, victoriously. His eyes wandered the room, locking on the bottle of caffeine pills to his side then back on his reflection. "Let's see you fuck with me now."  
  
(That's it for this part. Do you like? Should I continue? I have one more dream sequence lined up for next time and then ... well, we'll see. As always, reviews dictate whether or not I write another chapter. So keep them coming.) 


	18. July 26, 2004

Title: Endless Love  
  
Author: Crimson Coin   
  
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.  
  
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.  
  
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.  
  
Archiving: Ask me first.

* * *

July 26, 2004  
  
Randy Orton's smile brightened, his eyes beaming as he looked between Dave and Ric. "I can't believe I won. I actually won. I'm the number one contender."  
  
Ric laughed, slapping his young apprentice on the back. "That you are. You certainly are."  
  
"Did you see me out there?" Randy asked, excitedly. "Did you see me? How I took it to Jericho, that son of a bitch. I showed him. He didn't think I could get him out. And I did. I did it."  
  
Dave smiled. "I'm glad you got him out. He doesn't deserve to be anywhere near that title. And I'm gonna make it my business to ensure that he doesn't get another belt."  
  
"We all need something to strive for, Big Man." Ric said comfortingly as he nodded at the largest member of Evolution."  
  
"Hey Champ," Dave called as he saw Randy packing his bag. "Aren't you gonna shower first?"  
  
"Nah," Randy answered. "I need to find Trish."  
  
Dave laughed. "I gottcha. You have fun."  
  
Ric didn't speak as Dave grabbed a towel and walked into the shower stall. When the jets turned on, Ric turned his attention back to the younger man. "Trish?"  
  
"Yeah," Randy said. "I've got to find her." Now in street clothes, he turned, the sweat still glistening on his brow and arms. His sleeveless Legend Killer shirt clung to his sticky body, his track pants wet from the water he'd just poured on himself. He hopped, pulling his sneakers onto his feet then smiled. "Ric, you know something?"  
  
"What's that, my boy?" Ric asked affectionately, lounging back on the couch in Evolution's locker room.  
  
Randy sighed, his eyes almost dreamy as he gazed at the ceiling. "It's Trish. She ... she really got to me. It's like I'm a new man."  
  
A haunting feeling overcame Ric but he couldn't let it show. "What do you mean?"  
  
Randy sat quickly on the couch. "I mean, it's like I've never felt like this before. I don't know how to describe it or what to do or ..." he laughed. "I just want to charge out into the streets and scream. And just scream and I don't care who hears me. And this title shot is just the icing on the cake. I have everything."  
  
"You really care about her, don't you."  
  
"Care?" Randy smiled, sighing contently. "Care isn't even the word. I think I'm in love with her." When Ric tried to speak, Randy raised his hands. "I know what you're going to say. I've only been with her a little over a month and I can't be in love with her. But I am. I think. See this is what I'm talking about when I say that I don't know. Cuz I've never been in love before."  
  
Ric nodded. "I gottcha, Kid."  
  
"How do I know?" Randy asked. "I mean what do I do? Do I tell her? Do I show her? She makes me so happy and I ... I want her to know." He chuckled, shaking his head with a casual shrug. "I'm not really a romantic kinda guy and I want to do something to show her how I feel. You're great with women, Ric. Come on, you've got to have some ideas."  
  
"I don't want to tell you anything." Ric said. "Because then it's not from you. If you want Trish, well then you get her. I won't lie to you. You have got to work your ass off to keep a woman. And Trish is no exception. Hell, you'll probably have to work extra hard to keep her."  
  
Randy furrowed his brow. "Why?"  
  
"Women are complicated like that." Ric answered hiding the truth. "I ... I can't really explain it but you've got to trust me. And I'm probably not the best person to ask about this. I'm not good at keeping women. I can get 'em. But I sure as hell can't keep 'em."  
  
Randy nodded. "Ok. I guess I'll just have to wing it then."  
  
Ric watched as Randy jumped to his feet, shouldered his bag and raced to the door. "Aren't you gonna watch the match?"  
  
"Hell no." Randy answered with a smile. "To be dead honest, Ric, I don't give two shits who wins. Because it don't matter. I got Trish by my side and that belt hanging only a few feet away. I can't lose. It's like a fairy tale. I'll have the gold. I'll have the girl. God, will I have the girl."  
  
When the door closed Ric only shook his head, leaning back on the couch. The quest for that belt would be a gauntlet. And Randy was going to get his heart broken as well. Ric had his doubts that Randy could obtain the gold whether from Hunter or from Benoit. But he might be able to keep Trish ... if she could only have a change of heart.

* * *

Randy raced down the arena corridor, his bag bouncing against his hip. It was heavy, but he didn't care. His smile brightened as he saw her door just ahead and without even knocking, he barged inside.  
  
Trish gasped, her eyes flying to the door at his entry and she jumped, frightened.  
  
He dropped the bag from his shoulder, his eyes locked intensely. He licked his lips, trying to quiet his pants from his recent exertion to get to her as quickly as possible. He swallowed hard, clearing the distance between them in only three strides. He cupped her face in his warm hands, pulling her to him and capturing her lips.  
  
She whimpered, shuddering against him, her lips trembling and Randy pushed even closer to her, slipping his tongue into her mouth. A soft moan escaped her and she caved towards him, her hands rested on his hips to keep herself from falling.  
  
Randy swirled his tongue a moment then tilted his head, pushing closer still to deepen the kiss, his tongue tangling with hers in purest want. His fingers tickled over her cheeks then brushed back through her hair, cupping her head gently. His one hand trailed to her neck, slowly massaging as his other arm wrapped around her body, pulling her closer still. He tilted his head the other way, using that moment to take a deep breath and then his mouth was assaulting hers again.  
  
Trish leaned into him, helplessly clutching at him and she couldn't help but respond with equal passion. Her knees weakened and she could barely stand on her own. He sensed this and pulled her closer against him, supporting her as he continued the needy embrace.  
  
Randy sighed, tilting his head back up to slowly pull back, his lips lingering on hers, moist and wet for an elongated moment. He panted, his breath short as his lower lip brushed along her upper lip and he finally pulled his mouth from hers.  
  
Trish closed her eyes, licking her lips as she ducked her head. She could feel such passion, such want and yet so much affection and love. Emotions she could never fully return to him. She squeezed her eyes tighter together, willing the tears to stay back as she hid from his gaze, but couldn't pull away.  
  
He sensed her discomfort, even her mild sorrow and he didn't speak. Instead, he leaned down, nuzzling her with a tenderness he didn't even know he possessed. His nose brushed against hers as he pressed his forehead to her brow. He pursed his lips, offering a soft kiss.  
  
She accepted.  
  
He sighed as he kissed her with nothing more than his lips and he held her by those luscious lips for as long as he could. Finally, needing to breathe, he let her break the kiss, but he did not release her from his arms. He rubbed his forehead against hers, his arms tightening around her body as he spoke. "I did it," he whispered.  
  
"I know," she breathed.  
  
He swallowed hard, his eyes closed as he spoke deeply and sincerely. "I did it because of you." His husky voice said, full or raw emotion. "I get out there and I think of you and it keeps my going." He reached up, cupping her face to keep her close, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. "That's how I had the energy to stay in there. And last week when I kicked out of Edge's spear. I don't know how I did it but I just ... I think of you and I can do anything. That's how I know I'm going to win at Summerslam. You ... you just ..."  
  
"Don't," she pleaded softly. "Don't say it. Don't say anything else."  
  
"I have to." He answered. "You just have this power over me and I can't resist."  
  
"I don't want that power." Trish said, shaking her head and trying to ease away from him.  
  
Randy tightened his arms. "No woman has ever made me feel this way before. You make me happy, Trish. And I know how you said that you're sad and all that about not being ok last week. I understand and that's ok."  
  
He chuckled, shaking his head lightly then nuzzling her nose to nose. "I'm not really a romantic kinda guy. I don't think this is coming out as wonderfully as it should. But I guess what I'm trying to say is that I think I'm falling in love with you."  
  
Her breath hitched high in her throat.  
  
"I know what you're going to say." He continued. "It's too soon in a relationship of any sort to know that but I don't care. I'm just laying everything out on the table. Well, if I were truly honest, I shouldn't say 'think'. I know I'm falling in love with you."  
  
"Randy, I ..."  
  
"Shhh," he hushed with a loving smile and his eyes opened. "Look at me." When her eyes fluttered open, he sighed dreamily, caressing her cheeks with his hands before running them softly down her body, eventually wrapping his arms around her waist. "So beautiful."  
  
Trish swallowed hard. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes and she shook her head, closing her eyes and ducking away from his gaze.  
  
"No, no." he cooed, cupping her face again and tilting her back up, her eyes meeting his again. "I don't want to make things weird. And I don't expect a response or anything from you and it's ok if you don't want to say anything." Again, he chuckled at himself. "I probably just made things all the more confusing by stumbling that out. Ah, that's ok. Ask me to rip into a guy in the ring and I can deliver."  
  
She smiled, a little giggle slipping from her lips.  
  
His smile brightened at her response and he brushed a hand back through her hair, sweeping the strands over her shoulder and away from her neck. "But ask me to romance a woman and I'm a fifteen year old on his first date." He placed both his hands on her hips. "Here."  
  
Trish knew what he wanted and so she gave a little jump, helping him hoist her into the air and she immediately wrapped her legs around his waist. She knew him so well, knew what he expected and she readied herself to be slammed against a wall.  
  
But he didn't.  
  
Confused, she furrowed her brow as he walked to the bench at one end of the room and sat down. She gave an 'Umph' at the impact and her legs dangled behind him to one side of the bench while he sat facing the other.  
  
"You know something?"  
  
"What?" she asked, pushing back from him just a little, her hands resting on his pecks.  
  
He draped his arms over her waist, looking adoringly up into her eyes. "I've got this grand idea."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
He licked his lips, his smile softening. "Well it takes place after Summerslam, that night in Toronto. And it involves you and me." He hummed, rocking them slightly, loving how close she was, how high on his hips she sat. "And you're completely naked, wearing only your Championship belt. And I'm lying buck ass naked on my back on a king size bed with red satin sheets; the World Title strapped around my waist. And you're on top of me ... and I'm inside you ... and we're engaged in the most passionate love making to ever grace the Canadian soil."  
  
A smile pulled at Trish's lips.  
  
"How does that sound?"  
  
"That ..." Trish swallowed hard. "That sounds absolutely wonderful."  
  
"I thought so," he answered, pulling her closer and burying into her neck, his lips attaching to her throat.  
  
Trish closed her eyes, shuddering against his actions and her tears. He was too good. He was too sweet. She didn't deserve that kind of affection or love. He really did love her and she didn't love him back.  
  
He hummed his content, trailing his hands up the back of her shirt to caress skin.  
  
She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding his head to her. Maybe she could make herself love him. She didn't want to hurt Randy and it wasn't as if the man she loved returned her affection. Yes. She would make herself love Randy Orton. Then nobody would be hurt.

* * *

_He leaned casually in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched her.  
  
She stood in front of a full length mirror in their bedroom, wearing a black cotton bra and white, lace, high-hip panties. She ground the ball of her bare foot into the carpet a moment then sucked her lower lip into her mouth, examining herself.  
  
He sighed, pleasurably.  
  
She jumped, turning to face him. "Oh," she relaxed, turning her back on him to look back into the mirror. "You scared me." She quickly snatched one of his tee shirts from the floor and pulled it over herself, the shirt covering to her mid thigh.  
  
"You didn't have to do that," he said, stepping into the room. "I was enjoying the view."  
  
She laughed, returning her attention to the mirror. "There's nothing to enjoy."  
  
"Why would you say that?" he asked, concerned, stepping behind her to glance over her shoulder and into the mirror. His arms slipped around her waist, holding her gently as he cocked his head. "There's more than enough to enjoy when it comes to you."  
  
She shook her head, reaching up to touch her cheek then the corner of her eye. "God, look at me, Chris."  
  
He smiled, his eyes scanning her body in the mirror. "I am."  
  
She sighed, a frown on her face. "What happened to me?" He didn't answer her and she inferred that he agreed with her. "I'm going to be forty tomorrow."  
  
"I know," he said, smiling as he tightened his arms momentarily in a hug. "Happy Early Birthday."  
  
But again, she shook her head. "I already look so old. Being forty is just going to solidify it."  
  
"You don't look old, Baby," he laughed, his eyes bright with amusement.  
  
"I do." She answered, slightly hurt at his jesting manner. "I know what you're going to say. That you're forty-five and it's nothing. But you've aged so well and your body ... you still look amazing. Men always age so well and you're still so handsome. But look at me. I'm getting wrinkles and my body ... I'm fat. I look like an old hag."  
  
"You're not fat. And you're not a hag."  
  
"I am."  
  
"No," Chris shook his head, seriousness in his tone. "You are not fat. Trish, Sweetie, you haven't been in the ring for over six years, you've given me four children and you don't work out like you used to. There's more meat on you then when we married but it's not fat. Your stomach is flat and your body is still tone but just not like it once was."  
  
"Chris, I would completely understand if you wanted a beautiful woman. You're still so good looking and you could get any woman you wanted. I wouldn't be upset if you wanted a mistress. There're more than enough women out there that I've seen looking at you. I'd be ok with that."  
  
He furrowed his brow. "I already have a beautiful woman."  
  
She nodded, slowly. "You already have another woman?"  
  
"No," he corrected. "I have you."  
  
She laughed. "I'm not a beautiful woman. Not anymore."  
  
"Yes, you are." He said. "And I don't want anyone else. And you're not old. We all get older, Trish, but that doesn't mean you're not beautiful. You're as beautiful today as you were the day we got married. And you were as beautiful then as you were the day I first met you." He smiled. "I'm just in awe that a beautiful woman like you would be with a goofball jackass like me."  
  
"But I'm not beautiful."  
  
"Yes, you are." He said then grabbed the hem of her shirt. Without even warning her, he lifted it over her head. She gasped but he didn't let her get away. Dropping the shirt to the floor, he wrapped his arms around her again and pulled her back into his chest so they were both looking into the mirror.  
  
"Chris."  
  
"Just look at you," he sighed. "I have never ... to this day ... seen anything as perfect as you. And whether you believe me or not is up to you. I speak the truth. You're breathtaking."  
  
She ducked her head.  
  
"No no," he gently cooed. "Look back in the mirror. Look on my face and just ... just the mere pleasure I get from looking at you."  
  
He watched as a faint flush rose to her cheeks and she blinked a few times, her breath escaping erratically until she swallowed hard, stilling her heart.  
  
"I was going to wait until tomorrow morning to give this to you. But I think it's best now. Close your eyes."  
  
She obeyed. She could hear him rustling around and then suddenly felt his arms hovering over her shoulders.  
  
"Ok, open your eyes."  
  
She gasped.  
  
"I bought it for you." He said, holding the necklace in front of her so she could see it in the mirror. Her eyes widened as he slowly fastened it around her neck. Three diamond strands wrapped gracefully around her neck all meeting at a single point in the back. The diamonds shimmered regally in the light, reflecting back at her in the mirror. Every diamond the same on every strand. It was noble, delicate ... royal.  
  
"Chris,"  
  
"It looks wonderful on you," he breathed. "They're blue diamonds. It's not flawless, but almost. God, it's perfect."  
  
"Chris, I ... I can't accept this," she said, her eyes still wide. "We ... we can't afford something like this."  
  
"We already did."  
  
Her brow furrowed as she met his eyes in the mirror. "It's absolutely gorgeous, Chris. I've ... I've never seen anything like it. But ... But how could we afford this. How much was it? We have four kids and the dogs and the mortgage on the summer place."  
  
"Doesn't matter."  
  
"No, please," she begged. "This was an unreal investment and you should have asked me before buying something like this."  
  
He shook his head. "We will have to sacrifice nothing. It's already paid in full."  
  
"But ... but how."  
  
He smiled, resting his chin on her shoulder as he tightened his arms. "For the last seven years, any spending money that I had for myself was put away. I haven't bought anything for me. I made sure we had the money for bills and food and all that stuff and you know how we always kept money out for ourselves. Every single cent that was my personal money, I used to buy this. And it's already bought and paid in full. It's yours."  
  
"Chris..."  
  
"It's all yours," he repeated, whispering into her ear. "It was no sacrifice for me. It's yours because you're beautiful and because I love you."  
  
She turned in his arms, tears in her eyes as she gazed up at him.  
  
He smiled gently. "You're still the most beautiful thing to me. And I'm an old goat now and just because it takes me longer to get going and I'm not as rigorous or have the endurance like I used to doesn't mean I don't still want you with every god damn fiber of me being. That's if you still want an old man like me."  
  
She choked on her tears, a bright smile on her face as she wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting onto her toes. "You ... you still love me?"  
  
"Damn straight, I do."  
  
She licked her lips then, her eyes fluttering closed as she leaned up towards him.  
_  
Chris forced his eyes open, stirring in the bed. "Oh no you don't." he said, opening his eyes wide as he sat up. "Oh no, not this time." He laughed, sitting straight up and looking across the way into the mirror.  
  
He smiled, shaking his head. "Not this time. I won't let it get that far. I have you beat." He pointed at the mirror. "I knew it was coming. I wasn't completely asleep yet. HAH!"  
  
He chuckled. "What was going to happen this time, huh? Were the diamonds going to turn into piranhas and chew away at her flesh? Was another lion- bull-goat hybrid going to rape her in front of me again? What?"  
  
He shook his head, his eyes glaring as he growled at himself. "I don't know anymore. What, do I have to confront her or something and then maybe I could get a good night's sleep? It doesn't matter anyway. She has Randy Orton. And obviously he's better than me in every god damned way. He beats me in the ring. He's more desirable, his body and everything. I knew it. I knew that the hair on my body mattered. But no ... I was too chicken shit to shave it when it mattered. Well guess what, Chris, it doesn't fucking matter now."  
  
He sighed, letting his accusatory finger drop to the bed. "Randy is better. She's with Randy. She ... she can have any man she wants and she wants Randy Orton. So why do you keep doing this to me!"  
  
He blinked a few times, listening to the slow inhale and exhale of his breath. "I could pour my heart out to her and it would make no difference. She won't come back to my arms. You don't know that. No, I know that."  
  
His face contorted then, tears welling in his eyes as he brought his knees up to his chest, his legs slightly spread to keep his balance as his feet dug into the mattress. He raked his hands through his hair. "God, I'm so tired." The exhaustion unbearable, he fell back onto the mattress, rolling on his side as he curled into a ball, the tears still falling.  
  
(Oh so complicated. Review me. I love reviews and if I get no reviews ... I don't write.) 


	19. August 2, 2004

Title: Endless Love  
  
Author: Crimson Coin   
  
Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.  
  
Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.  
  
Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.  
  
Archiving: Ask me first.

* * *

August 2, 2004  
  
Lita closed her eyes, a heavy sigh on her breath as she held the cell phone to her ear. The phone just kept ringing; he wasn't picking up. She opted to leave a message this time. "Jeff, it's me. You haven't been returning my calls and I really want to talk to you. Please. Let's just talk." She clicked her phone shut.  
  
"Does it surprise you that he doesn't return your calls?"  
  
Lita's eyes narrowed at the voice and she glanced back over her shoulder, a warning stare in her intense hazel eyes. "Nobody asked you, Stratus."  
  
Trish kept her head high, her arms crossed over her chest.  
  
"What do you want?" Lita sneered, standing straight and facing her one-time friend.  
  
Trish blinked slowly, a look of disgust on her face. "I never thought you could do something like this."  
  
"What?" Lita laughed. "Sleep with Kane. I guess we don't know each other as well as we thought. Does the fact that I'd do anything for the man I love surprise you? That's what love is, Trish. But I guess you wouldn't know anything about that."  
  
"You bitch." Trish sneered, her eyes on fire with anger. "And you speak of love like you know what it is. I don't think you do."  
  
"How dare ..."  
  
"Oh, I dare." Trish taunted, stepping further into the room, standing only a few feet from the fiery redhead. "I'm calling you on being the two timing bitch that you are. You're a selfish bitch, Lita."  
  
"Who are you to call me a bitch?" Lita cocked her head, restraining the anger to punch this woman in the face.  
  
"I know what you did." Trish clarified, an edge to her usual calm voice. "I know what you did to Jeff." When Lita's eyes widened, Trish only shook her head. "I know what you did to him. Does it really surprise you that he doesn't call you back?"  
  
Lita didn't respond. She wasn't expecting this.  
  
"How could you." Trish condemned, her voice low and threatening. "How could you hurt him like this? How could you lie to everyone and just turn your back on him?"  
  
"You don't know what you're talking about." Lita weakly defended, shaking her head furiously but she refused to back down.  
  
"Are you ever planning on telling anyone? That Jeff is the father of your child?"  
  
Lita grabbed Trish by the collar, viciously spinning the woman and pinning her against the lockers. "That's a filthy lie."  
  
Trish let out a grunt at the impact and she swallowed hard, keeping her strength as Lita held fast so close to her neck.  
  
"It's a lie." Lita insisted, harshly.  
  
"Is it really?" Trish asked, a knowing flicker in her eyes.  
  
"Take it back." Lita snarled, slamming her ex-friend into the lockers again. "Take it back. It's not true."  
  
Trish cocked her head, showing calm despite the fear in her heart. Lita may just snap and try to hurt her. Trish would have to be ready just in case. "Is that what you've told yourself? Is that the lie that you believe now?"  
  
"Shut up!" Lita growled, bowing her head, her hair falling around her face. "Shut up."  
  
Trish smiled, knowing she'd won. "Well Matt would never know. A Hardy is a Hardy ... right?"  
  
Lita slammed Trish into the locker again, this time her hand releasing and the redhead walked to the other side of the room. With an audible sigh, she kept her back turned, her hands on her hips as she looked at the ceiling. "You're no saint, Trish. Don't judge me."  
  
"I didn't say I was judging you."  
  
"You're so full of shit." Lita spat, turning her eyes back onto the blonde. "I see it in the way you're looking at me. You don't know, ok? You just don't know. And why the hell am I explaining myself to you anyway." That said, the redhead turned on her heels and marched out of the room.

* * *

Trish Stratus walked into Evolution's locker room, a sad look on her face.  
  
"What's the matter, Little Girl?"  
  
She looked up into the warm eyes of Ric Flair. "Where're the guys?"  
  
"Hunter's gone. Randy and Dave are in the shower." Ric smiled. "Not together, but you know what I mean. Now, what's wrong?"  
  
She chuckled with a shake of the head. "You're too much." She followed him as he sat on the couch, adjusting his blazer.  
  
"You're already showered?"  
  
Ric nodded. "I don't know what takes those boys so long to get ready. They don't even have to shower to have girls hanging off them. But you're still dodging my question."  
  
"Nothing's wrong." Trish answered. "I just had a little ... confrontation with Lita."  
  
Ric's eyes focused, intently watching Trish's face. "Everything ok?"  
  
She nodded. "Yeah. It's fine." A smile pulled at her lips. "I saw what you did out there."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
Her smile grew warm as her eyes showed genuine concern. "In the ring. You barely touched him. You coulda hurt him. You coulda had the Figure Four Leg Lock on him at any moment. And you didn't."  
  
"I got in that ring," Ric started, looking over Trish's shoulder so not to meet her eyes. "And I just thought of you, Little Girl. I couldn't touch him."  
  
Trish ducked her head. "After everything between you and Chris ..." She sighed. "Ric, I don't know what to do."  
  
Ric sighed. "I already told you, Honey. You gotta do what you want. And you can't think of anyone else. You gotta do what makes you happy and if that means leaving my boy in there, then you better do it. And do it soon."  
  
Trish nodded her understanding then stood, scratching the back of her neck. "I don't feel so well. Tell Randy that I'm gonna go with Tyson back to the hotel and lay down."  
  
"Ok, Little Girl." Ric answered, watching as she walked from the room.

* * *

Randy Orton stretched his neck, then vigorously rubbed a towel through his hair, getting as much water out as he could. "Hey, Ric." He said, walking out of the showers. "I thought I heard Trish's voice. Was she in here?"  
  
"Yeah," Ric answered, glancing up from the book in his lap, his eyes peaking over the top of his reading glasses. "She left about fifteen minutes ago. Said she was tired and not feeling well."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Yeah, you ok, kid? You don't look so good."  
  
"I'm worried about Trish," Randy sighed, falling onto the couch next to Ric.  
  
Ric stared momentarily off into the air. More and more he was becoming the neighborhood psych. He shook his head, returning his attention to the man at his side. "What's up?"  
  
"She's been funny lately." Randy said, truly confused with the actions of his girlfriend. "Since last week. Last Monday we made love and she was all into it and all and her hands were in my hair and they were constantly moving, like trying to rake through it. It's almost like she wanted it to be longer. She was like fisting the back of my head and stuff. But then when ... when I called her name, she kinda stiffened up. I didn't know what happened and she opened her eyes. I felt her excitement kinda dwindling you know but I couldn't hold on. I felt like shit for doing that to her, you know so when I pulled out and back to try to finish her, she grabbed my arms and pulled me back to her side. She just curled into my side, her eyes closed and she said that she was fine and she didn't want anything else. That she was tired you know."  
  
Ric nodded.  
  
Randy sighed. "She hasn't climaxed for me in like a week. It's like ... it's like she doesn't want me or something."  
  
"Maybe she's not in the mood." Ric said. "I mean you don't keep your hands off her. Why don't you give it a rest and just spend time with her? She'll warm up." He didn't have the heart to say what he truly thought.  
  
Randy nodded. "I got carried away out there. With Jericho and I know it but, I just lost control. I don't know what it was. Like this jealousy and anger filled me and I don't know why. Trish is with me, not him. Why would I feel that way?"  
  
Ric shrugged.  
  
Randy tilted his head one way then the next, his lower lips sucked into his mouth as he sat deep in thought.

* * *

Chris Jericho glared into the mirror of his hotel room. He sat cross- legged on the bed, a whiskey bottle in his hand. His head cocked as his eyes narrowed. "Don't you look at me like that."  
  
He tilted his head the other way. "I know you're looking at me. And I'm not drunk." He raised the bottle towards the mirror, a single finger pointing. "I'm not so don't give me that look."  
  
He paused a moment. "If I was drunk, I'd be stumbling over my words WHICH I am not."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" He yelled, staggering to his feet. "Don't you start with me. I am in no mood to deal with you today."  
  
That said, Chris walked to the sliding glass door that led to his balcony. Throwing open the door, he stepped outside. It was nice in San Antonio. Beautiful outside. He glanced up at the balcony, one up and one to the right. Edge stood there.  
  
Chris pointed, raising the liquor bottle into the air. "Asshole."  
  
Edge peaked over the banister, his eyes flaring at the sight of his fellow Canadian. "Prick."  
  
"You've got some nerve," Chris snarled. "You got some real fucking nerve coming onto my show and hitting below the belt. It was fucking low. What the hell was that all about? Stacy dumped your ass pretty hard too or don't you remember that."  
  
Edge glared. "What is your fucking problem?"  
  
"You have no right mocking my love life when yours is more fucked up than a day time soap."  
  
"Fuck you, Chris." Edge growled, pointing a finger over the banister. "It's not my fault you're a fucking moron."  
  
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"You are so fucked up that you don't know what you got till it's lost." Edge hollered. "If you weren't such a god damn moron, Trish would probably be in your arms right now and you'd be fucking her brains out. But No. What the hell is wrong with you?" Edge smiled. "You know, I'd be willing to say it's the fact that she's a woman. You can't keep women, Chris, face it. Why don't you just bend over and take it up the ass like we all know you want?"  
  
Chris threw his liquor bottle, the glass slamming against the banister right in front of Edge. Edge ducked as the bottle shattered, the liquor and pieces falling to the ground. "Fuck you!" Chris snarled.  
  
Edge picked up one of the potted plants at his feet and hurled it over the banister at Chris. "Asshole!" He yelled and Chris ducked, the pot whizzing past him and shattering.  
  
"That's not fucking true." Chris defended. "Take it back."  
  
Edge laughed. "Take what back. That you've got the smallest prick on the planet and can't keep a woman. Maybe that's why she left your ass."  
  
"Hah!" Chris sneered. "Size isn't that important, EDGE. Maybe if you could do something with what you're packing, Stacy wouldn't have left you. One Pump Chump, that's the rumor backstage."  
  
Edge's eyes narrowed. "You son of a bitch."  
  
"Two much jacking off," Jericho responded. "Too used to your hand that the feel of a woman was too much for yah, huh."  
  
Edge clenched his teeth, his body shuddering with rage. "You are the biggest jackass on the planet. You had Trish right where you wanted her and you had her head over heels. Then you did the bet. And then everything fell to shit. And just when I thought nothing would come of it ... you get Trish again. And what do you do. Fuck it up!"  
  
Chris felt the rage consume him. "You don't fucking know. You don't fucking know what this feels like."  
  
"Bullshit!" Edge yelled. "You aren't the victim here, dumbass. She is. You hurt her first with the bet. If the bet was real or not makes no fucking difference; her feelings were real. And then everybody racked on her for being cautious. I wanted to kill you for that, just so you know."  
  
Chris glared.  
  
"Oh, and let's not forget what happened." Edge continued. "She fucked you over and dumped your ass just like you god damned deserved. And then what. You get her back. Somehow you convince that girl to go back to your arms and she's in love with you again. And what do you do. What did you do, Chris!"  
  
Chris ducked his head, a new sorrow filling him.  
  
"That's right, you Fucktard." Edge snarled. "You had her in every way, shape and form and you would not hear an explanation of anything. You snapped and you slapped and she ran off. Does it surprise you that she's with another man. A real man! What did you want her to crawl back to you and ask for another? You hurt her first both times and now you're in pain and you want sympathy?"  
  
"Hah!" Edge laughed. "You ain't getting any sympathy from me you stubborn Asswipe. You deserve exactly what you got for making her life a living hell. So Fuck you, Chris, you have no right to say anything about me."  
  
Chris didn't respond as Edge walked back into his room, slamming the sliding glass door shut.  
  
Jericho collapsed to his knees, his face contorted with new tears of realization. Edge was right.  
  
(Shorter chapter, but don't worry. Oh, can you smell the build. I have no plans of finishing the story at summerslam, but let's just say ... something big will happen soon.) 


	20. August 9, 2004

Title: Endless Love

Author: Crimson Coin 

Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.

Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?

Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.

Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.

Archiving: Ask me first.

* * *

August 9, 2004

Edge pushed away from the medical team as they helped him backstage. "I don't want your fucking help." He growled, flashing each person an angry stare. "Leave me alone."

"You may have a concussion and we ..."

"Piss off," he snarled, not even looking in their direction as he walked down the hall. His eyes narrowed as he saw the retreating form of Chris Jericho. "Prick!"

Chris stumbled and fell to the ground as Edge tackled him from behind. Unaware at first, he didn't defend himself as Edge recoiled and landed a hard punch into Chris's abs.

"I thought we were friends."

Chris lurched as the air was expelled from his lungs again and he pulled his arms in and up, blocking his face, head and body best he could.

Edge didn't strike again. "What the fuck?"

Chris glared through his guard. "What? Upset that you lost to me? Proves I'm the better man through and through."

"I don't give two fucks about the match." Edge responded with sincere malice. "I'm talking about leaving me as fodder for Batista. I thought we were friends."

"And did you come to my aid when Dave ..."

"Actually, yeah. I did." Edge shook his head, his eyes a warning siren to the man he had pinned to the ground. "If I recall correctly, I was more than willing to fight by your side against both Randy Orton and Batista."

Jericho didn't answer.

"That's what I thought." Edge said. "Some friend you are."

When Edge stood and turned his back, Chris jumped to his feet. "All high and mighty now. Oh hail, Edge, the great Champion." Chris taunted, following the other blonde down the hall. "You'd have done the same thing. So don't act like you're noble and honorable. You kept that belt by cheating. I took a win by cheating. And Dave took a cheapshot."

Edge turned quickly, facing off with his one time friend. "And it never once occurred to you to quite possibly ... you know ... help me!"

"Would have you helped me?" When Edge gave no response, Jericho only smiled. "You were saying? And what about last week?" Jericho continued. "You hit me first."

"You grabbed me." Edge countered.

"You were walking away." Jericho shot back. "Couldn't be man enough to face the assault and you were walking away. I wasn't finished and you punched first."

"You had it coming."

Jericho's eyes narrowed. "Your shot was lower."

Edge smiled, a taunting smile as he stood tall. "It was true."

Jericho felt the surging charge of rage and he used every ounce of willpower to control it. "Trish Stratus was the lowest blow you could have ever used. Lower than Stephanie. It was fucking personal ... too fucking personal."

"I know."

Chris felt the sudden urge to smack that smirk right off Edge's face. "I'm gonna get you where it hurts. Just you wait. You're going to regret EVER messing with me." Chris turned his back, walking away. He didn't know where he was going. He just had to get away.

* * *

Trish Stratus lifted her leg, slamming her foot onto a wooden box. Leaning forward, she fumbled with the ties of her sneakers. Tying her shoes was always so hard with the stupid cast and now this brace wasn't any easier.

"Here,"

Trish jumped at the voice but her eyes widened as Jeff Hardy sat on that box, placing her foot in his lap and tied her shoe.

"There. You could always just ask for help, Trish." He smiled. "Any man here would be more than happy to do it for you."

"Jeff?"

He nodded. "The one and only."

"Jeff," she squealed, throwing herself into his arms and hugging him. Her arms band tightly around his neck, squeezing him for all he was worth. "Jeff, you're here."

He returned her embrace. "Yeah. I was tempted to try and iron out some kinks but ... well let's just say after seeing a certain discussion, I decided against it."

Trish pushed back from him, standing between his legs as she grabbed his hands in hers. "You mean Lita and Matt?"

He nodded, bowing his head with a sad smile. "Yeah." He chuckled at himself. "And here I thought she was really going to come clean."

"She was on the verge of it." Trish said, honestly. "I kinda thought she was. But at the last minute she ... she didn't."

"At least Matt knows the baby's not his." He said, with slight venom. "Good. If I can't be happy than neither can they."

"Jeff,"

"Don't argue with me." He warned, his eyes meeting hers. "If I can't be happy, then neither can they. That's the way I feel and nothing's gonna change that."

Trish sighed. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"What?" He spat softly. "What is this not the Jeff you know? The Jeff you're used to? Well this is the new Jeff."

"I didn't say that." Trish said, shaking her head as she squeezed his hands. "That's not what I mean at all. I'm just sorry to hear you're not happy."

He laughed. "How else am I supposed to be? Should I be ecstatically excited? I hope Kane does win on Sunday."

"Don't say that." Trish said, softly, reaching up to brush some stray hair behind his ear. "Don't say things like that. You don't want to see them in pain."

"I don't care."

Trish nodded, ducking her head a moment then she sighed. "I didn't want you to leave. You could have come here still."

"And watch Lita and my brother make kissy face. No thanks. I think I'll pass."

"But you coulda been with me." She said. "You coulda tagged with Christian and we coulda been together and ... well, not together but you know what I mean."

He smiled as she nervously stammered on. "I know what you mean. Speaking of together, how's Randy?"

"Good," Trish answered. "He's really excited about his match on Sunday. He's determined to win that belt and as much as I like Benoit, I think he can win. I kinda want him to, too, you know?"

"I can imagine."

Trish smiled. "He's been in Hunter's shadow for so long and now he's going to finally get the chance to prove himself. I'm so proud of him."

"Sounds like you really care for him."

Trish paused a moment, then her smile grew soft as she nodded. "Yeah. I ... I really do."

"Does that mean you're over Chris?"

The smile fell from her face, utter sorrow shining through.

"I'm sorry," Jeff apologized quickly. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to be so bold. It's just ... from the way you were talking, I thought ... I'm sorry."

"No, it's ok." Trish answered, solemnly. "I ... I know that."

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart." Jeff cooed, brushing away the single tear on her cheek with his thumb. "I didn't mean to open wounds. It's just the way you were talking about Randy, it sounds like you love him."

"I do," Trish said, her brow furrowed with confusion. "I think. I mean, Chris hasn't spoken to me, much less looked at me in months so I think he's moved on. I don't think he cares or anything because it's not like he's even saying hello."

Jeff smiled, leaning down closer to her so he could whisper. "You mean like he's not looking at you now?"

"What?"

Jeff's eyes glanced to the side. "Over there."

Trish turned her head, looking in the direction that Jeff indicated. Chris stood, huddled against the wall, his eyes glued on her. She gasped.

Chris's eyes widened and he flushed a deep red, turning and quickly walking away.

"How long has he been there?" she asked, looking back on Jeff's face.

Jeff smiled with a slow shake of that head. "Longer than me. I passed him on my way to you. And I have another secret."

"What?"

"He's not over you," Jeff said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Far from it."

"How do you know?" she asked in an accusing tone. "How would you know that?"

"I talk to Stacy more often then not."

Trish frowned. "You talk to Stacy and haven't called me?"

"I'm sorry," Jeff apologized again, cupping her face and bringing her closer. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "I'm sorry I didn't call you. But she called me and I ... I just ..."

"It's ok." Trish said, though Jeff knew instantly she was lying. She swallowed hard. "But how ... what makes Stacy an expert on Chris?"

"She's been rooming next door to him for the last few weeks." Jeff said. "Just trust me. And I'm not trying to make rocks between you and Randy or anything like that. I just ... I want you to be happy."

Trish ducked her head. "I don't know what I want."

"Don't you mean who?"

She shook her head.

Jeff furrowed his brow, tucking the hair behind her ear so he could see her face better. "I don't follow you."

"I know who I want." Trish said, her voice low. "But I just don't know what I want ... so that I know who I'll choose."

Jeff nodded. "Ah. So you mean that you wouldn't choose who you don't want if they don't have what you want even though you really want them."

"Yeah, I think." she answered with a slight smile and a soft giggle. "I lost you, but I know it sounds silly and so much has happened and I ..."

"I understand." Jeff said. "You don't have to explain." He knew how difficult this entire situation was and he knew of her true past. He didn't want to upset her in anyway and he knew this conversation was driving in that direction. "Come on. You haven't smiled nearly enough in my company. Let's go grab something to eat. We can even bring Randy if you want."

She laughed, taking his hand in hers. "I'd like that."

(And so ends another short chapter but things are moving along quite nicely. Looks like Trish may come around. Maybe .... just maybe.)


	21. August 15, 2004 SummerSlam

Title: Endless Love

Author: Crimson Coin 

Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.

Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?

Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.

Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.

Archiving: Ask me first.

* * *

SummerSlam August 15, 2004

Trish Stratus sighed heavily, walking leisurely down the arena corridor. Her eyes blinked slowly, her shoulders hung with weighted sorrow. It was early, only a little after four O'clock in the afternoon and yet still an increased sense of foreboding filled her weary body. She was afraid.

But at this time in the arena, she knew no harm would come to her. Most of the others had not yet arrived and she felt comforted at the fact that no one would bother her. Her mind swirled with each tentative step she took and her confusion mounted at every moment.

Her heart was torn. Two men had affected her life as no other and she had no idea where her love truly lie.

Randy Orton was perfect. He displayed nothing but affection and sweet caring. He lusted her and yet loved her in the same breath. He was attractive, attentive and sensual but still could show a childish playful side that not many possess. He was the perfect man in every way. 

But her mind remained plagued with Chris Jericho. He consumed her thoughts, her dreams and her actions. With every kiss, every touch from Randy she dreamed it was Chris. Every glance, every word she imagined coming from Chris's mouth.

The guilt flooded her mind. Randy did not deserve that kind of betrayal.

Shaking her head clear, Trish attempted to rid her mind of such torturous thoughts. Her eyes widened, a gasp slipping from her lips as she was roughly grabbed. Panic rose in her body, her breath catching in her throat as the rough hand on her arm yanked her viciously.

The dark closet swallowed her and Trish heard the door close. A hand covered her mouth before she could cry and she was pinned flush against the door, a male body pressed against her to keep her still.

"Please, don't scream." He begged in a soft voice, worry and sadness most prominent in his tone.

Trish froze, unmoving as she squeezed her eyes shut, shuddering under so rough a hold. A slight whimper rose in her throat and she couldn't stop it from slipping out.

"Shhh," he hushed again. "Open your eyes. Look at me."

His whispered voice was indistinguishable. Fear consumed her and she shook her head. She didn't want to see him. If she saw him, then she'd know who he was and he'd hurt her more to keep her quiet. She prayed for him to do whatever he would then leave her be.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He replied, his palm still warm against her mouth. Her soft breath exhaled from her nose and he could feel her breaths increase with her fear. "Don't be afraid. Please, look at me."

Trish forced her eyes open. She stilled, holding her breath as a pair of familiar blue eyes gazed down at her. Chris.

Chris Jericho smiled shyly, not relinquishing his hold of her just yet. He didn't want to pull away so soon, he didn't want to lose the touch of her body. "Don't scream. Please, just let me talk. Will ... will you let me speak?"

Trish nodded, her eyes still wide and locked on him.

"Please don't scream." He repeated again then slowly lowered his hand. Eyeing her with caution he took two steps back, his hand slowly dropping to his side.

Trish whimpered, though it escaped her. She didn't want him to move. His eyes were so beautiful, so icy blue and intense. She always loved looking into his eyes. It was like gazing into a watery pool, so clear and crisp.

"God, I'm such an idiot." He sighed, reaching out to touch her cheek.

She flinched involuntarily.

He closed his eyes then and when he opened them again, panged rejection reflected. "I deserve that. But I ..." He brushed his fingers across her cheek. "I'm the most foolish man on the planet."

Trish swallowed hard, watching him shudder the moment he touched her skin. His breath rose and fell in slow rhythm. He was ready for his match later in the evening, standing in only his tights and boots. She couldn't stop her eyes from scanning his bare chest, and his tight abs. Had he been working out more aggressively? He was thinner, his love handles not nearly as pronounced.

"I've been a mess." He began, softly, shaking his head. "I've just been an absolute mess. Months. It's been months. I haven't slept. I can't eat. I'm a frickin' wreck."

She cocked her head, gazing at him in curious wonder.

"It's like I'm plagued," he said, his face scrunched in emphasis as one hand fisted the hair on his head. "My mind spins and I feel sick to my stomach. I can't keep anything down. Food, water, it doesn't matter. I've been distracted in the ring, everything's falling apart. My friends are gone, my family's estranged, I'm all alone."

He sighed, his shoulders slumped as his hands fell limply at his sides. "Not a soul. No one will talk to me. They say I'm ... crazy or ..." he wiggled his fingers, his brow raised in mock fear. "Creepy. Oooooo." He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "But they don't know. None of them fucking know."

Chris licked his lips, reaching back to rub the back of his neck. "Edge is gone. He and I practically want to kill each other and ever since Stacy left him, he's not been the same. She talks to me in passing but nothing like she used to. Lita's a zombie. Benoit's engrossed in his title. There's nobody else. And my family?" he snorted, pursing his lips a moment to control their trembling. "My father and I got into this big fight when I ..."

He sighed, closing his eyes a moment then opened them. His eyes, ever so intense, locked on her deep brown orbs. "After I struck you, I went home. I felt like shit. There was no excuse for what I did and believe me when I say that I'm not trying to make excuses. But I went home and I ... I talked to my Mom. My Dad was there and when he heard that I hit a woman, he flipped."

Chris sniffed, blinking back the tears as he looked to an equally blackened corner of the closet. "My Mother was silent. My Father yelled. He threw me out of the house, out of the family. He said that he never raised his only son to act that way. And since I did, I am no longer his son." A tear slipped down his cheek and his lower lip trembled as he maintained the best composure as he could. He had to speak.

"I never expected them to approve," Chris continued, his voice shaking with his tears. "But I never expected to be expelled. To be tossed to the side and be kicked out of the only thing I ever knew as my constant. After Stephanie and even right after Wrestlemania when I went home to my folks, they were there for me. They were there when I ... through everything and now ..."

He sighed, shaking his head as his eyes met hers again. "But you?" He reached out, cupping her cheek in his hand, brushing his thumb along her moist cheek. Was she crying? His eyes searched her face from her brow to her nose to those perfectly pouty lips. "God, you're still so beautiful." He breathed, the words escaping him before he could censor his thoughts.

Trish flushed, a tiny smile tugging her lips but she quickly pulled it away and kept her eyes on his.

"I don't even deserve this opportunity." Chris said, gently. "I don't deserve to look at you and I know you're with Randy. He proved to be the better man, though I always kinda knew he was. It was just the way you kissed him, way back when. In the hallway that day and I caught him kissing you and ... you never kissed me like that and I knew that he was twice the man I could ever be."

"It's true." He said quickly, brushing his thumb over her cheek and to her lips to silence her. "It is. He treats you the way you deserve to be treated. He's kinda and affectionate and sweet and probably wildly passionate in ways that I could never measure up. It's ok."

His voice choked but he controlled himself, willing the words to continue. "I never really knew you and ... and I know I'm not in your league or on Randy's level. From my body to my face to my hair, my personality and brains, or lack there of. Everything. I understand and I ... There's not a single excuse for doing what I did. No matter what I saw or you said or anybody did. I'm not a man. A man doesn't hit a woman, much less the woman he loves, or claims to." He shook his head, his eyes transfixed on hers. "I don't deserve to live. I'm not a man. I never was. I didn't know the precious ... treasure ... I had in my hands."

He licked his lips, a fired haze flashing in his eyes as he pressed flush against her, his hands gripping her waist as he brought his face within inches of hers.

Trish shivered, her eyes wide but her lips parted willingly, her chin tilting towards his. His lips were so close. That soft sensual flesh that she'd spent nights dreaming about and days praying that she could feel again. His lips parted as his mouth hovered over hers. He was so close, she could feel and taste his hot moist breath, his lips almost brushing hers. The tip of his tongue licked the top point of his upper lip and she wanted to cry as that slick muscle touched her lip with that action.

"God, I want to kiss you." He growled, heatedly, his body lurching and shuddering against her. Suddenly, he shook his head, pushing back from her as he recoiled into himself, his head bowed in shame. "I'm sorry. I ... I don't know what came over me. Here ... here I promised I wouldn't do anything and ..." He clenched his teeth, his hand fisted as he scolded himself. "Damn it. I'm such a fucking asshole."

Trish shuddered, her heart beating in her throat as she opened her eyes to look at him. Her stomach quivered, her head hurting a little and she could feel heat and pressure in her temples and through her brow. Her neck was tense, her shoulders pulled taut and her knees could barely support her body. She wanted to collapse.

"I'm sorry." He apologized again, oblivious to the state his actions had left the woman he loved. "I ... I had more to say but ... I don't remember what it was. I ... I wasn't hoping that you'd do anything or even say anything. I just ... I was praying that maybe saying something to you would put my heart at ease. I'm so tired. And hungry. Maybe the fact that I spoke to you will ... I don't know. Maybe I can keep the food down tonight. Maybe I can get a good night's sleep without some horrifying nightmare. I need that peace of mind."

Trish reached out, steadying herself on a crate to her right and she sat down, unable to control the searing emotions in her body. She breathed heavily, overwhelmed by not only his words and the love that they sparked inside her again, but the lust that his nearness had surged.

"I'm sorry," he said again, racing out of the closet and letting the door close behind him.

Trish leaned forward, her head hanging between her legs as she desperately willed her nerves to still. She shouldn't feel this way. She was with another man. She had a boyfriend and Chris's actions should not have instilled such a feeling inside her. She hadn't felt that way since ...

A tear slipped from her eye as she sat straight, her hands balancing herself on the edge of the crate. She hadn't felt that way since he first kissed her in that alley in Boston. She hadn't felt such a rush since Chris fiercely fucked her against those lockers. Since they made passionate love on the couch in his locker room the following week.

Randy had never made her feel that way. And here Chris resurrected that intense yearning without even kissing her, with barely a touch.


	22. August 16, 2004

Title: Endless Love

Author: Crimson Coin 

Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.

Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?

Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.

Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.

Archiving: Ask me first.

* * *

August 16, 2004

Trish Stratus rushed hurriedly down the hospital corridor. The nurse had just come to get her, saying that Randy was awake and ok. She had to get to him.

Finding the proper room, she burst into the door. "Randy?" Her eyes found him lying on the bed, his head stitched and bandaged. She rushed to his side. "Oh God," she breathed, reaching out to touch his covered wound.

Randy smiled, sweetly. "Hey there."

Trish's eyes focused on his wound but a flutter distracted her and she looked to the corner of the room, where Ric Flair stood. "You!" she growled, her eyes flaring dangerously.

"No," Randy said, quickly, grabbing her arm before she could go after him. "No, come here." He pulled on her hard, making her sit on the edge of the bed.

Trish's eyes flashed with dangerous caution as she refused to let her eyes wander from the older man. "I trusted you. We trusted you. I thought you cared about him. I thought you were his mentor. What kind of bastard are you that ..."

Ric raised his hands, his head bowed and slightly tilted as he walked closer to the bed. "All innocence here, Little Girl."

Her eyes narrowed.

"It is." Ric said.

Randy nodded. "Yeah, sweetie. Ric talked to me earlier today. I knew what they were gonna do. I knew what Hunter had planned."

"But ..."

Ric chuckled. "Let's just say that Hunter isn't exactly pleased that our boy here beat Chris Benoit fair and square where Hunter couldn't even win with help."

Randy smiled. "And if you couldn't tell from ... you know ... me being busted open. Hunter's got a little grudge cuz I got that baby." He pointed to the title lying on an abandoned chair.

Trish blinked, unbelieving a few times. "But ... Ric ..." she clenched her teeth. "You attacked him out there."

Ric shrugged. "Hunter pays my salary. Hunter is my paycheck. Hunter says to take it to the boy, and I do. But I had a nice long talk with Randy before hand." He scruffed his young apprentice's hair. "He understands."

Randy nodded. "Ric said that there's not much else he can teach me. That I've ... well, evolved. I mean I can always learn but ... I'm ok to go on my own."

Ric smiled. "That he has. And I don't know how often I'll be able to talk to you. And I am not going to hold anything back in that ring. Find yourself some new allies."

"Like who?" Randy asked with sincere concern as he took Trish's hand subconsciously with his.

Trish squeezed his hand in comfort. "Well I'm here for you, what little I can do and Tyson is too." 

Randy chuckled. "That man would do anything for you. But thanks."

Ric nodded with a laugh. "That is true. But in all seriousness. Think about what I'm saying. People like ... Benoit and Regal. Even Chris Jericho. You may want someone in your corner as soon as possible."

Randy nodded his understanding. "Thanks, Ric. You know, for everything."

Ric smiled, grabbing his protégé's other hand. "Anytime. Good luck, kid. You're gonna need it." His eyes met Trish's for a moment before he walked from the room.

Curious and worried, Trish cocked her head, looking into Randy's eyes. "What was he insinuating?"

Randy sighed, squeezing her hand a little tighter in his. "We need to talk."

Her face fell at his tone.

Randy cocked his head, reaching out to brush his fingers across her cheek. "I've known for some time now."

Her brow furrowed. "Known what?"

"That you were never mine." He answered plainly yet calmly. "That deep down the reason for your coldness was because I wasn't somebody else."

Trish's eyes widened as she gasped.

"It's ok." He cooed. "It's my fault anyway. You first came to me for raw impersonal sex and from the way you acted afterwards, that's probably all you wanted it to be. I pushed for something more. I pushed for the emotional attachment and the relationship. You never wanted it but you went along figuring no harm could come of it."

"I ..."

"Wait. Let me finish." He interrupted. "I'm not mad. If I wasn't so pushy in having a relationship, we wouldn't be in this position and I probably wouldn't be heartbroken." At her frown, he pinched her chin affectionately between his fingers. "Don't you feel guilty. I got myself into this mess. But just tell me. And please, be honest. Do you love him?"

Trish bowed her head.

"Please," he begged. "Just tell me."

She offered a slow nod, her voice squeaking hardly. "I do." She sniffed. "I'm so sorry, Randy. I ..."

"Shhh," he hushed, still in an oddly calm state. "I'm ok, Trish. I've had almost three weeks to get used to this idea."

"I ... I don't understand."

He blinked slowly, calming himself as he spoke as softly and gently as he could. "Three weeks ago, when I made love to you." He sighed. "You called out his name."

A horrified blank expression drew across her face.

"I know you didn't mean to." He continued. "but the way you tried to rake your fingers through my hair. The way you gripped my sides, my waist as if trying to grab love handles, like I know Chris has."

Shamed, Trish ducked her head even further.

Randy nodded. "Dave attacked me because I chose you over him." He tilted her chin up again, wanting to look on her lovely face. "Even knowing all this and not once thinking about taking you to bed in celebration, because I knew you wouldn't be mine. I chose to have that lovely dinner with you after my victory and not go out and binge party with Evolution. Dave feels left behind, that's why he's so angry."

Trish shook her head, tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Randy."

"It's ok." Randy said calmly, a slight glassiness to his eyes, though from tears or the blood loss, Trish didn't know. "It still hurts a little. But I'm ok. Really. After watching you and Jeff last week and the way you act with him and then realizing you're more affectionate with him than you are with me? That was the final kicker and I know now that I can never have your heart."

"Oh, Randy."

He shook his head. "No no. It's ok. I know that I don't want to loose you, not in my life. I care too much. I'd be happy if we can be friends. I want what you have with Jeff. I want to be there for you for everything and I want you to be happy and I still want to protect you. We've had so much fun together. I mean remember that weekend you came home with me and we went to the beach? We had a blast."

Trish smiled. "Yeah. Yeah we did."

He smiled back, bright and brilliant. "And remember that fat ass guy trying to hit on you and he had the sausage and peppers in his mouth as he's talking to you?"

She giggled. "Yeah and then he wouldn't leave me alone ... and you." She swatted his arm. "Just sat back like it was nothing and laughed."

"It was funny."

"He was almost ready to kiss me." Trish shot back, a beautiful smile on her face. "You probably woulda sat there and let him."

He nodded.

She pouted.

Randy chuckled. "But the look on his face when you knocked him down woulda been priceless." He shrugged. "And I eventually took care of the situation."

Her eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms over her chest. "You call acting like my pimp 'Taking Control of the Situation'?"

He laughed. "Yep. He stopped bothering you."

"That's because you had the entire diner believing you had a nine millimeter in your pocket."

His smile stayed bright and beaming. "See. We can be like that. We can be great friends and still be there for each other."

"I'd like that." She answered softly. "But I'm still so sorry. I wanted to ... well this may not sound right. But I wanted to love you. You're such a wonderful man and ... and I wish that I could have been the girl to make you happy."

"I'll find her." He answered. "But for now, we still got each other and you have Tyson and Christian. And we're going to get you Jericho."

Trish smiled a genuine and beautiful smile.

"I've never seen you smile like that. Never seen you so happy."

She flushed, ducking her head a moment then she licked her lips, meeting his eyes again. "You're so perfect. Most men wouldn't forgive me or even want to talk to me after what I did to you. Calling out Chris's name and ... I don't know why you want to be my friend, much less help me get together with Chris."

He shrugged casually, his eyes half open in his weariness. "I'm not most men. And from the looks of how Chris has a hold of your heart, he's not either."

She shook her head, quite shy at the current conversation. "You look exhausted."

"I kinda am," he answered with a yawn. "Don't leave me tonight. I ... I'm not used to being alone."

Trish nodded, walking across the room and grabbing the chair. She dragged it to his bedside and sat down, leaning against the bed to grab his hand. "Get some sleep. I won't go anywhere."

"You're going to be uncomfortable in the morning." He said, yawning again.

She smiled, brilliantly, squeezing his larger hand with both of hers. "And you did the same thing the night I broke my wrist. You had a back cramp for weeks."

He smiled. "A night. I was milking it for the nightly massages for weeks."

She giggled, laying her head down on the bed. "Get some sleep. But I'm waking you every few hours or so. You're concussed and I don't want anything serious happening to you."

"Deal," he replied with a final yawn and his eyes fluttered closed.

(Two for one deal here. Hope you like. Now ... how and Am I going to get Chris/Trish back together again. Hmmm ... let's see. Review me.)


	23. August 23, 2004

Title: Endless Love

Author: Crimson Coin 

Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.

Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?

Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.

Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.

Archiving: Ask me first.

* * *

August 23, 2004

Lillian Garcia narrowed her eyes as she watched The Rock pacing the length of his locker room. "Ok you know what Mister? Everything out there was completely uncalled for."

Rock smiled. "Oh was it? You love the dirty talk, Baby, so don't even try that on The Rock." 

Lillian placed her hands on her hips. "That's no excuse for telling me a drink sperm."

"Well you do."

She swatted at his arm. "That's not the point."

Rock beamed that signature grin. "But oh did it get you hot and bother. The Rock knows what you want and what you like."

Lillian sighed, ducking her head.

The Rock frowned, brushing his fingers over her cheek. "Things are that hard. Everything with Chris. Don't get me wrong, The Rock knows that things are rough."

"Why can't you come back?" she asked, a slight tear in her voice. "For good. Why ... why can't you come back and make everything right? I ... I don't know how to reach Chris."

"Have you tried?"

Lillian shook her head. "I don't even know where to start."

Rocky sighed, pulling the woman more tightly into his arms.

She gripped him, hugging him, hiding in his chest. "You promised you'd take care of everything. Last time I saw you, you promised. And ... nothing's different. It ... it's all worse."

Rock nodded. "So busy."

"I know you're busy." She answered. "Just ... just try."

Placing a soft kiss on her forehead, he pressed his cheek to the top of her head, hugging her. "Not this week. Soon, Darlin. Soon."

* * *

Trish Stratus smiled, sauntering into her private locker room. "How was that?"

Randy Orton only shook his head. "That was mean."

"Oh come on," she coaxed, tying the sheer robe at the waist and walking to her locker. "It was well deserved."

"And entirely too funny." He included, lounging lazily on the couch. "I mean some of the stuff you said out there, though mean, was very ... very amusing."

"Was it really?" she asked hopefully, spinning to look at him.

Randy's face dropped, his jaw slacked as she leaned into her hip. Swallowing hard, he raised a single finger. "Do me a favor. If we're supposed to be 'friends'? You can _not_ walk around like that in front of me. At least not this soon. Much less ... standing ... like that."

Trish flushed, quickly reaching into her locker and she pulled out a long bath robe. "I'm sorry." She apologized quickly, wrapping the robe around herself and covering her more than erotic lingerie. "Is that better?"

"Some," he answered with a chuckle. "Not entirely but believe me. Much better than before."

"I'm so sorry." She apologized again then turned towards her locker, digging through her belongings.

Randy exhaled a breath, blinking harshly to clear his head. "Not a problem. You just gotta give me time on that end of it. If you know what I mean."

She nodded, quickly. "I ... I do. I'm really sorry." She paused, cocking her head in deep thought. "You know?" She turned to face him, her hands on her hips. "What was that bitch thinking attacking me?"

He laughed. "Oh I don't know. It might have something to do with ... you know ... you insulting her in every way."

"But still," Trish defended, crossing her arms over her chest. "That's no excuse. Everything I said was true. Well except for the sex before marriage part. Well, no because I do believe that just never abided by it. But that's not the point."

Randy rolled his eyes. "Then what is the point, my dear?"

"The point is that bitch attacked me."

He shook his head, a bright smile on his face.

The locker room door opened, Tyson Tomko walking inside. "Your things are in the car."

"Thanks," Randy responded, standing.

"Tyson," Trish said, gathering her street clothes from her duffel bag. "Go with Randy."

Tyson took a step towards the woman, concern on his face. "But what about you?"

"I'll be fine," she answered, waving off his worry. "Really. I'm just gonna take a quick shower and get my things together. I'll be there soon."

"But I don't want to leave you." Randy said, just as concerned. "I don't trust anyone here, especially Hunter."

"And that's why you have to leave now." Trish argued. "Why would anyone come after me? You have to go now, Randy. I didn't want you staying as long as you did. Hunter's on a red streak and you are at the top of his list. Tyson, you go with him. He'll need you more than me."

Tyson eyed the woman carefully. "I don't like this. I don't want to leave you alone."

"I swear." Trish said. "I'll leave in less than half an hour." She glanced at her wrist watch. "If I'm not back to the hotel by midnight, then get worried. If I get tied up, I'll call. Don't worry. I'm a big girl."

Tyson nodded.

Randy sighed, approaching her and raising a finger, pointing in her face. "I don't care where you are. You can be outside the door to the room, you call me at quarter to twelve. If I don't hear from you, I'm gonna be on a rampage."

"Deal." She said with a smile.

* * *

Trish hiked her duffel bag higher onto her shoulder as she walked down the corridor of the arena. She took a quick glance at her watch. 11:30. Good, she still had fifteen minutes and in that time, she could be back at the hotel before anyone got worried.

Turing a corner, she bumped into a body and fell back onto the floor. "I'm sorry." She apologized quickly, shaking her head as she looked up. Her eyes widened. "Lita."

"Bitch." Lita snarled, tearing the veil from her head and tossing it onto the floor. "Did you enjoy that out there? That little number you pulled. Huh?"

A sinister smile spread across Trish's face as she stood, brushing herself off. "You can at least apologize for bumping into me. Oh, I'm sorry. Maybe I ask too much for courtesy."

"You don't deserve any politeness." Lita growled back. "Tell me, Trish." She sneered the name. "Who are you to preach any of what you said out there?"

Trish's eyes narrowed.

Lita smiled, victoriously. "No sex before marriage huh? Would you then care to explain the list of men ... that you've opened your legs for?" As Trish turned red, Lita only basked in the other woman's anger. "Maybe how quick you were to jump into bed with so many men. And sometimes one just wasn't enough, was it? How many times have you had two men at a time?"

Trish shook her head, her teeth clenched. 

"You never knew how to say no, did you?"

"Neither did you." Trish shot back. "Kane? Couldn't say no to him, could you?"

Lita's jaw tightened. "When I said yes to Kane, I had Matt Hardy in mind. I had his well being in mind and I did that for someone I loved." She cocked her head. "Who were you thinking about when you spread your thighs? Or you were just thinking about the dick waving in front of you."

"Shut up."

Lita chuckled, knowing she'd won. "Wonderful answer. Proves my point. All you were thinking was on pitiful instinct. Oh look, there's a cock ... I know where that belongs. And you'd put it in wherever they wanted it."

"Shut up!"

Lita shook her head, inching her face closer to the other woman. "And as for your stunt, last week. You know as well as I do that it takes at least a month for birth control to settle in. And do you really think that I could force Kane to wear a condom. Do you!"

Trish refused to back down, her teeth still clenched.

Lita laughed. "Ha! Some chance that would be. It's like you forcing Andrew to wear a condom. Did he? Andrew. Did he wear a condom for you? Don't look at me like that. You know, I never once believed the stories you told me about him."

Trish's eyes widened in hurt.

"That's right." Lita shot back. "I never believed you. He never forced himself on you. You just couldn't say no. You liked him rough and that's how he was. Treated you like the tramp you were. He never hit you. He never said anything to you. He never called you names. And he never ... raped you."

Trish recoiled.

Lita's head whipped back with the slap and her eyes fired as she glared dangerously at the shaking blonde.

"You don't know." Trish quickly said in a rushed frightened voice. "You don't know. How ... how dare you. How dare you say that?"

"It's true."

Trish violently shook her head. "No! It's not. You don't know. You don't know what it's like. For ... for your voice not to matter. You don't know what it's like to be .... You don't know what it's like for a man to force himself on you!" She finally screamed. "Again and again. You don't know what it's like to be raped!"

Lita growled, wrapping her hand around the blonde's neck as she slammed her against the cement wall. She came within an inch of the other's face as she spoke between clenched teeth. "I don't know what it's like? I don't know what it's like for my voice not to matter? I don't know what it's like to be raped?"

Trish shook her head. "You ... you slept with Kane ... you ... you were willing."

"How do you know?" Lita responded in an almost demonic voice. "How do you know I wasn't pleading for him to stop? How do you know I didn't fight him every step of the way? How do you know I wasn't left in tears when it was done?"

Trish didn't answer, but closed her eyes.

"I know exactly what it's like." Lita continued. "To be left a shattered mess. Huddling against the corner of a room, my knees pulled into my chest as I watch him in the bed, laughing at me. Laughing at the sight of his ... essence ... leaking out of me. Laughing at the sight of his bite marks on my neck, my breasts. Or his reddened hand print on my throat from where he had to hold me down."

Trish swallowed hard, fighting the tears in her own eyes. Lita's recollection had brought back painful memories of her own traumas.

"I know ... exactly ... what it's like." Lita gruffly released her hold, but did not step back.

Trish licked her lips, nervous, afraid, and her mind swirling with flashbacks. "Why ... why would you marry him?"

"I had no choice." Lita answered, coolly, her voice barely above a whisper. "He would kill Matt. Make my life more miserable than it is. He'd hit me, beat me, rape me again. I don't know." She protectively wrapped an arm around her waist. "Kane doesn't need to know this child isn't his. I love this baby. It's mine. And if marrying Kane is what I have to do to keep this child alive ... then I'll do it."

"Because if Kane knew it wasn't his ..."

Lita sighed. "He'd see this child was dead. And me as well."

Trish didn't answer a long few moments but watched, awed as Lita stepped back. She cocked her head. Her once fiery friend now dreary and drawn. Trish ducked down slightly, trying to look into Lita's averted eyes. "And Jeff?" 

A soft smile tugged at Lita's lips as she looked to the ceiling. "May God forgive me for hurting that boy. I never meant to."

Trish nodded. "Maybe you should ask him first. Then worry about God."

Lita's surprised eyes flew to Trish, but the little blonde was already walking away.

* * *

Trish sighed, holding the cell phone to her ear. "Randy, I'm fine. ... Yes, I'm still at the arena. I'll be back in about half an hour. Just let me grab some water or something."

"Are you ok?" he asked.

"I'll be fine." She answered. "I just need something to drink."

"Ok." He said. "I'll see you in a few."

Trish clicked her phone shut, sighing as she walked into the catering hall. Grabbing a bottle of water, she plopped down in one of the benches. Her eyes found him immediately.

Chris Jericho stood by himself, shaking in a slightly odd way. Was it a tick or a twitch, she didn't know, but he seemed unable to control it. He walked strangely, though from the way he was thrown into the ropes earlier that night, it wasn't surprising.

He walked to one of the tables, cocking his head as he looked at Chris Benoit. "Benoit?"

"Not now, Chris." Benoit dismissed with a shake of the hand. "I'm really busy." He turned his attention to the notebook in front of him.

Jericho bowed his head, stepping back and away. His eyes brightened as he spotted Stacy Keibler and he approached her. "Stacy."

"Hi, Chris." Stacy answered in her usual bubbly voice. "But I can't talk now, sorry. I'm going out with the girls. I'll talk to you some other time though ok? Bye."

Chris felt his body twitch slightly, shuddering as if he were cold and just like that, she was gone. His eyes scanned the room again. Licking his lips, he stepped up to another table. "Rhyno?"

"Hey, Chris." Rhyno said then turned his attention back to his tag team partner. "We gotta get them, Tajiri. But I'm not sure how we're gonna secure a spot for the title. I'm thinking that ..."

Chris ducked his head, bowing away as he knew when he wasn't wanted. His neck twitched again and he roughly raked a hand through his hair, walking out of the room.

Trish sucked her lower lip into her mouth, worried at the sight of him. That wasn't normal. The way he acted, how his body shuddered and shivered. What was wrong with him?

Her concern dominating, she stood and followed him from the room.

Chris staggered down the arena corridor. He shook his head violently and mumbled to himself.

Trish kept close behind him. She couldn't hear what he said, but he brought a hand up to the side of his head as he continued to trip his way down the hall. His head bobbed with his movements as if it were not of his control and his body sagged with each passing step.

"Don't." he said, shaking his head, viciously and he nearly bumped into the wall with the action.

Trish slowed, unsure. Was he talking to her?

"Who are you to tell me what's best?" Chris said.

Trish furrowed her brow. He was talking to himself.

"I don't wanna ice it." Chris stumbled, tripping over his feet and he reached out, stopping his fall with his hands. His palms slammed into the cement floor, but he didn't fall. His knees bent and legs slightly outstretched, he walked towards his hands then stood. "I'll ice it when I'm damn good and ready to and nobody is gonna tell me no difference."

Trish stopped as he suddenly did.

His shoulders slumped and he sat down on a crate to his side. "Don't say things like that." He shook his head, ducking almost to his knees as his hands raked back through his hair, fisting the back as he began to rock. "Shut up!"

Worried, afraid, Trish slipped into a shadowed corner, peaking around to watch him.

"Shut up!" he repeated. "They do care. They're my friends." He tensed momentarily. "Yes, they are!"

Trish shook her head, sighing to herself. "Oh Chris, what happened to you?"

"Stop it!" he ordered. "Stop it, leave me alone ... ... Shut up! I'm not all alone. I am NOT alone!"

She'd heard enough. She couldn't watch anymore. Trish stepped out from her hiding place, walking in front of him.

Chris's head whipped up at the sound and his eyes met hers. Wide-eyed, frightened, his breath hitched and he pressed against the wall, leaning back from her. He shook his head.

His continuous shaking was enough to make her want to cry. But she couldn't, though that didn't stop the glassy tears from rising to her eyes. She just refused to let one fall. Shaking her own head, she reached out, tentatively towards him. "Oh Chris."

He pressed harder against the wall, fearing her touch and he shied away. His trembling worsened and he licked his lips, nervous. "What ... what are you doing?"

Trish blinked slowly, stepping between his legs and reaching for his face. "Showing you that you're not alone."

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. He was frozen.

She stood as close as she could, but he was sitting far back on the crate. She reached out the final distance, cupping his cheek in her hand.

He pulled away violently as if her touch had scalded him.

"Shhh," she hushed, tentatively waiting, her hand hovering just where it was so as not to frighten him. "Shhh, it's ok. I'm not going to hurt you, Chris. Chris, look at me."

He shook his head, ducking low as his body rocked with a sudden wave of energy.

"Shhhh, easy." She calmed. "Chris, look at me. Please."

Chris forced his eyes open, not moving any part of his body as his faded eyes locked on her.

"It's alright." She cooed, reaching for him again and this time, when her hand touched his cheek, he only stiffened, but did not pull away. "Shhh," she continued, then reached out with her other hand, completely cupping his face.

He tensed.

"Come here," she coaxed, pulling on him slightly to get him to sit up straight. "Come on, it's ok." He acted as though human contact frightened him, scared him. What had happened in those months they were apart? What had turned him into this tortured soul, this beaten animal?

Chris licked his lips, nervously obeying.

"That's it." Trish said with a warm smile, her eyes searching his face for any remnants of a man. There was none. "You had the courage to confront me last week."

He shuddered, finally sitting up and he scooched a little closer to her, his legs still dangling off the edge of the crate.

She brushed her thumbs over his cheeks, stroking him affectionately as her eyes searched his empty icy pools. "Chris?" She cocked her head, doing her best to control her voice. "God, Chris. What ... what's wrong?"

Her fingers moved slightly against him and his eyes widened as he struggled.

"No no." she calmed, not releasing his face. "It's ok. Look." She caressed his face then while cupping one cheek, she brushed her other fingers through his hair, tucking it behind his ear. He acted as though ...

Her eyes widened. When was the last time he had human contact? Affectionate human contact. When was the last time someone spoke to him, acted as his friend? She thought desperately back to last week. To everything he said. To everything he did. How desperate he was in that instant for her kiss.

A small whimper slipped from his lips and she was broken of her thoughts. Focusing on him again, she tried to look into his eyes. So sorrowed, glassed, faded and dead but she tried anyway. She had to try and get through to him.

"Chris." She called, tilting her head as she continued to caress him. "Chris, I care." Suddenly, he froze, his eyes locking on her. "I do." She assured.

A ringing broke her focus. She glanced to her bag which lay a few feet away. It was probably Randy. Worried. The last thing she needed was he and Tyson being worried and doing something rash. Swearing to herself, she rushed to her bag, zipping it open and getting the phone. "Hello."

"Trish?"

She sighed at Randy's voice. Standing, she turned back to Chris. "Randy I ..." Her eyes widened as she saw him hurrying away. "No, Chris!" she called.

He didn't react.

"Chris, please!"

But he was gone.

Sighing, Trish ducked her head, pressing a hand into her weary eyes. She couldn't withhold the tears anymore. The droplets slipped from her eyes.

"Trish? What is it?"

Trish sniffled. "Can ... It's nothing. I'm ..."

"What is it?"

She heard scuffling on the other end as if he were moving or dressing. "It's nothing. I'm fine. I'm ... I'm gonna leave now."

"What the hell happened?"

"Chris," she sighed. "He's a mess. I'm so worried about him."

There was silence a few moments. She could not hide her tears in that last answer. When Randy spoke again, it was cool yet concerned. "Did he hurt you? What happened?"

"No," Trish answered, shaking her head. "I mean he didn't hurt me. He's ... he's just a mess. And I ... I almost got something out of him but ... he left before I could."

"Ok." Randy said. "Are you coming right back? Please say yes, because I don't like the way Tyson is looking at me if you're gonna say no."

She smiled. "Yeah, I'm heading back now. See you in a few." She clicked her phone shut and dropped it back into the bag. Shaking her head, she plopped onto one of the crates to her side.

Her thoughts raced and all she could think about was that broken shattered mess of a man. "Oh God, what have I done to him?"

(So ends this chapter. I love reviews and with reviews comes longer and more detailed chapters. Hint hint hint. Yeah. So what's going on with Chris? How about Lita? Will Jeff make an appearance? Trish seems to blame herself.)


	24. August 30, 2004

Title: Endless Love

Author: Crimson Coin 

Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.

Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?

Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.

Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.

Archiving: Ask me first.

* * *

August 30, 2004

Christian smiled his usual cocky victorious grin as he strutted down the arena corridor. The night was fabulous. His back was healed, he finally returned to RAW. And he finally gave that bastard Chris Jericho what was coming to him.

His smile brightened as he turned the corner, pointing and winking at one of those diva contestants. Oh yeah. Trish could finally rest at ease. Christian would take care of everything.

What in the hell had happened over those summer months? He was gone for so little a time and everything seemed to fall to hell. And it was Chris's fault.

Christian's eyes narrowed. He was lucky to have someone like Tyson Tomko. Tyson had made it apparent to call every week and fill in the details. About Trish and Chris coming around to each other, about Chris striking against her, about the 'thing' with Randy, and with everything else.

Christian nodded, sniffing harshly as he rolled his shoulders. Yes. It was Chris's fault. If Chris hadn't done a damn thing, none of this would have happened. Christian knew that if he wasn't injured, he could have kept an eye on things, kept everything in check and made sure that none of these extravaganzas occurred.

Clearing his throat, Christian slipped his belt back through his belt loops and fastened the buckle. Chris Jericho deserved everything he got out there. He deserved to be attacked, to be beaten with a belt, to be smashed with a chair. He would pay for ever messing up that precious woman's life.

She loved him. That was her only fault, loving a man like Chris Jericho. A man who wasn't even completely a man in his own right. A man who never knew what he had until it was gone. A complete jackass that had no right to live.

Licking his lips, that smile still on his face, he pushed into her locker room.

"How could you?" Trish cried, throwing herself into Christian's arms and she pounded once on his chest with a clenched fist. "How could you do that to him?"

This certainly was not the greeting he was expecting.

Trish buried her face into his chest, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. "Why? Why would you do that?"

Christian furrowed his brow, cocking his head as he wrapped his arms around her, embracing her in purest affection. "You mean Chris?"

She nodded, sniffling to regain her composure.

"He had it coming." Christian answered intensely, venom coating his words. "For putting you in tears. For hitting you. For making you cry right now. For deliberately trying to break my back during that cage match."

Trish pushed back, wiping her nose with the back of her hand as she looked up into his eyes. "Do you know how he's been lately?"

"Miserable, I hope." Christian snarled, his eyes locked on the red rimmed and swollen eyes of the woman in his arms. "I hope he's so fucking miserable, he doesn't know what to do with himself."

A shocked panged expression crossed Trish's face at those words. "You have no idea. You have no idea what you're wishing on him."

"Why are you so guilty? You're acting like this upsets you." Christian shook his head in disbelief. "Don't tell me that you can still care about him. He struck you ... for no reason."

"He had a reason."

"Is that what you think?" Christian asked, a slight scolding tone in his voice. "Don't tell me that you think you deserved it. Don't tell me you're one of those."

"No!" Trish snapped, shaking her head viciously. "No, I don't think I deserved it." Her eyes narrowed. "But I understand. I understand what he saw and you weren't there for it. You don't know what happened."

"I do." Christian growled back, pushing her away from him. "He over-reacted. He wasn't man enough to deal with the reality of life and the flaws that are in people and he couldn't take it. So what did he do? He hit you. He hit you! Does that register in that mind of yours? Does it click in that blonde head what he did to you? What he actually did to you?"

"Of course it does," she yelled, shoving him back by the chest then doing her best to retain her balance. "Of course I do. Of course I do." She raked a rough hand through her hair, resisting every tear and every sob that quivered inside. "I know what he did and I know what it meant but I understand."

She licked her lips, raising her hand to silence him so she could continue. "But I don't blame him. I don't. I can't."

"Why?" Christian asked, infuriated, mass confusion racing his mind. "You're not making any sense."

"I am." She snapped back. "And I know what I say. I know what it sounds like and I don't care. I know what he saw. He saw ... he saw that tape of me with all those men. And I was furious. Because it wasn't true."

Christian cocked his head.

Trish sniffed. "It wasn't. I wasn't with that many men. I was with a lot, yes. But not nearly as many as Eric accused me of. Those women on that tape ... it all wasn't me. And I can only imagine what he felt like watching that. And ... and I understand that he lost control."

Christian crossed his arms, turning his back in disgust.

Trish stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You haven't seen him. The guilt of what he did ... what it's done to him. He's an absolute mess."

"He didn't sound messed out there. He sounded like his usual cocky self."

"You know as well as I do that Chris isn't always like that." She said, softly. "You know how he is, how sensitive he can be and the type of man he really is. That wasn't like him. What happened. And from the way he is ... and acting ... I can't hate him. I can't blame him. I just can't."

"So you're going back to him. You're going back to his arms, to ... to him."

Trish ducked her head.

Christian sighed, stepping away from her. "I'm not gonna stop what I'm doing. Chris is going to pay for his mistakes. I'm not quite so forgiving as you. And if you're by my side or not, I don't care." He turned, his dangerous eyes locking on hers. "And I don't care if he's not all himself or if he's troubled or messed up." Christian brushed past her and to the door. Without giving her a second glance, he stepped out.

* * *

Chris Jericho moaned, shifting his weight on the table. He lay on his stomach, his legs outstretched and his arms dangling off to either side. His head hung off the end, his neck resting against the edge of the table. He was weak. He was tired.

"Well, lookie lookie here."

Chris growled at the voice, glancing to his side. "What do you want?"

Edge shrugged, an amused smile on his face as he leaned on his crutches. "I'm just admiring my brother's handy work."

Jericho narrowed his eyes, glaring dangerously at the other injured man. "Are you quite finished?"

Edge shook his head. "Not at all. I think it's wonderful how you and Christian have such a solid friendship. You know, Christian getting the better of you out there ... I can see why Trish would want him over you."

Chris clenched his teeth.

Edge only smiled, chuckling to himself. He knew what he said wasn't true. But that wasn't the point. Chris didn't. "You never were man enough for her, were you? She had the ride with you and just ... well you couldn't measure up to any other men."

"Shut up."

"Whipped like the jackass you are." Edge sneered, then laughed as the trainers pulled Jericho's shirt off. "You fucking asshole." He turned his back, walking to the door. "You had it coming."

Chris ground his teeth, his body tense as the rage surged through his system. When the trainer touched his back, he jumped. "Don't." he commanded.

"But Chris ..."

"I said, don't." He clarified dangerously, his eyes ablaze with anger and the trainers just backed away. "Leave me alone."

The head trainer nodded, leading his crew to the door. "We'll be back in about ten minutes, when you've relaxed. Maybe then you'll let us help you.

Chris snarled, growling to himself as the door closed and he bowed his head again, staring at the floor. He felt the rage consume him and that was all he could feel. Unadulterated rage. He just wanted to rip something apart, to hurt someone. Maybe even ...

He gasped, his eyes widening when a pair of delicate hands cupped his face. His body stiffened and he swallowed hard. Not fighting, he allowed the tiny soft hands to raise his head and his breath stopped when his eyes met those of Trish Stratus.

"Oh God," She sighed, letting her eyes fall closed as she pressed her forehead to his, holding him in place so he couldn't fight. "Oh, Chris, I saw what happened out there and ... I am so sorry."

Chris shivered, his body trembling from only her touch and he found himself relaxing, his anger diminishing from her simple presence.

"Shhh," she hushed, brushing her fingers through his hair as she nuzzled him, affectionately. Her nose brushing against his as she coaxed a tender response from him. "Come on, Chris."

He swallowed hard. "I ... I don't understand. What ... what are you doing?"

She sighed, moving forward and continuing to nuzzle him until her cheek pressed to his. "Chris," she breathed, her breath so warm on his ear. "Don't tell me you've forgotten how to be affectionate."

He stiffened.

"Oh God, has it been that long?"

He licked his lips, his body and his heart cracking and caving against his will. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes and all he wanted to do was push her away to stop the pain. She was the cause of his pain. She always brought him pain.

"Chris," she sighed. "I know it's still in you. I know you still care."

He viciously shook his head, pushing her away. "No."

Trish stumbled slightly from his force and she cocked her head, eyeing him with worry. Then she saw his back and the tender open wounds caused by Christian's beating. "Oh my God." She raced to his side, touching the reddened skin with a soft hand.

"Don't touch!" he snapped. "Don't touch me."

Trish swallowed hard, the pain of his outright rejection striking her very core. She bowed her head, taking two steps back from him. "I'm sorry."

Chris sighed, pushing up onto his hands and with a painful wince, he sat up. Hanging his legs over the edge of the table, he slouched, his head bowed. He just sat, bare-chested and ever so sad.

Trish watched him curiously. Destroyed. That was the only word she could think of to describe him at this very moment. His hair straggly, his body slumped and his face drawn. As if he'd seen a ghost or was haunted by some tangling memory, it panged him so that his inner turmoil was outwardly visible.

Chris tilted his head one way, his eyes closed as he leaned forward. His hands braced on the edge of the table, he exhaled a deep breath, trying desperately to control his swirling emotions. He didn't know what he was feeling.

She couldn't take it. She couldn't handle it anymore.

Trish stepped right up to him, right between his legs and she cupped his face in her hands. When his eyes widened in shock, she didn't care but pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him.

Chris felt his heart stop at the embrace and he clenched his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut to stop any feeling.

Trish pressed her cheek to his, hugging him tightly and pressing as close to him as she could. "I'm so sorry, Chris. This is all my fault."

He didn't respond but simply ducked his head into her embrace.

She sighed, rubbing her hands along his wounded back; he shuddered at that, whimpering in pain but he didn't push her away. "There's so much you don't know, Chris, and ... and maybe if I told you before then none of this would have happened and you wouldn't be the way you are right now."

Chris licked his lips, his one arm wrapping around her waist to hold her, pulling her a little further into his chest.

Trish smiled at his response and she only hugged him tighter. "See? I knew you still had it. There's so much I want to tell you, Chris. I ... I don't know where to start."

He shivered and trembled. She was in his arms again, and talking to him, willingly and not yelling. It was like she wanted to be there, wanted to be with him. This couldn't be real. It had to be a dream.

"But we don't have time now." Trish continued, cooing softly in his ear. "You have to get everything checked out and make sure you're ok." She sniffed, pushing back from him and she kept her eyes low, watching as she traced her hands over his chest.

Chris shivered again, but still did not speak.

"Please," she begged, brushing her fingers along his cheek. "Christian has it out for you and he's not gonna stop." She ducked down slightly, grabbing his eyes with hers. "Chris? He's not gonna stop. And I ... I don't really have much of a choice."

Chris licked his lips, his eyes searching both of hers.

"I don't wanna go into it," she continued, averting her eyes. "But if I'm by his side next week, never think that I want to be there. I don't want to see you hurting. Not anymore. The ... the sight of you ... like this..." she shook her head. "I'm tired of pain. I don't want pain anymore, Chris. And I know you don't either. And maybe ... well maybe you'll heal my pain." She flushed as the words left her mouth and she stepped back from him. "And maybe ... you'll let me heal yours. For good this time."

Chris watched, wide-eyed and confused as she quickly left the room.

(Short abrupt ending, but that was the plan. And next week, you'll see why.)


	25. September 6, 2004

Title: Endless Love

Author: Crimson Coin 

Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.

Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?

Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.

Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.

Archiving: Ask me first.

* * *

September 6, 2004

Christian continued to spit obscenities to the ring as he and Tyson Tomko slowly walked backwards up the ramp. A sneering smile on his face, he flipped off his former friend then turned, walking behind the curtains, leaving the other man unconscious in the center of the ring.

He brushed through the dark curtain, Tomko close behind as they meandered through the backstage equipment then down the narrow metal stairs. He stopped suddenly when a petite female figure stepped in front of him.

Trish narrowed her eyes.

Christian kept his shoulders square, his head high. She was still soaked from when Nidia tossed that drink on her. Her hair long and slick, her tattered shirt stained pink. "What?" he nearly growled.

She kept her eyes focused and intense as she slowly shook her head, scoldingly and disappointed.

An almost sinister smile slipped onto his lips. "This from the woman who had Tyson powerbomb him through the announce table."

Shocked and appalled, she raised an accusing finger, pointing at his chest. "You know damn well why I did that."

"Really?" Christian coaxed. "Because if you ask me, it wasn't necessary. I was gone. You could have left him alone. But you just couldn't help yourself. You know, I'm starting to think you want to hurt Chris."

"Lies." She snapped, anger forcing her lips to curl. "Lies and you know it."

"Is it really?" Christian taunted. "You went out of your way to hurt him. And now that I legitimately want him to suffer, I'm the bad guy. Explain that to me."

Trish didn't answer him.

Christian smiled, arrogantly. "That's what I thought. Chris and I have a reason for hating each other. Whether it's because of you or because of me or because of him, our anger is real. And I'm sick of always having to answer to him. I'm sick of being in his shadow. I'm sick of always having to sacrifice for him or for anyone. I'm on my clock now."

Disgust filled her and she had to resist the urge to just strike Christian across the face. Her eyes traveled to the man standing behind Christian, to Tyson Tomko. "You too, I assume."

Tomko didn't respond; he didn't even acknowledge her words.

Trish chewed on the inside of her cheek as her eyes met Christian's again. "So that's it, isn't it."

"It's your choice." Christian clarified. "You can be by my side or you can leave." That said, he walked past her, Tyson following close behind.

* * *

Chris Jericho lay on the couch in his locker room. Still in only his wrestling tights, he kept his eyes closed, a hand holding a bag of ice cubes to his forehead.

He'd snapped at the trainers yet again. He felt bad about that. They were only doing their jobs and he always made it difficult. But he didn't care. He just wanted to be left alone.

That's all he wanted anymore. He just wanted everyone to leave him alone. When he was alone, there was no criticism, there was no fear. No one to attack him. No one to hurt him.

Granted, he often got into heated arguments with himself, but that was understandable. His self conscious insisted that he still loved Trish Stratus. And that was a total lie.

He didn't love Trish Stratus. He didn't care one bit about her because all she brought him was pain. Like how over the last few weeks, she had been confronting him, speaking to him and trying to be affectionate.

But he was too smart. He knew what was going on. She was trying to get close again, just so she could break his heart. She was trying to get close so she could hurt him again.

He wouldn't let that happen.

Though one thing confused him. His nightmares had stopped. The last horrible dream had been almost two weeks ago and he'd been sleeping lately. No nightmares, only pleasant dreams if not complete deep sleep.

He jumped, startled and scared as someone touched his face. He jostled back, recoiling at the touch and his eyes popped open.

"I'm sorry."

Chris froze at the sight of Trish Stratus, sitting beside him on the couch.

"I'm sorry for scaring you. I didn't mean to. I ..." she smiled, shyly. "I thought you were sleeping."

He nervously licked his lips, his eyes glimmering with fear.

"Please, don't be afraid of me." Trish said, softly, reaching out to touch his face. When he recoiled, she thought better of it and grabbed his hand instead. "I mean it when I say I'm not going to hurt you. And I wasn't behind what Christian did."

He swallowed hard, wondering why his body shuddered. His eyes trailed down, gazing at his hand and how both her tiny hands entwined with his much larger. Warmth. He felt ... warmth.

She smiled, ducking her head slightly to look onto his face. "Chris?"

He raised his head, forcing his eyes to meet hers. So pretty. She was just, so pretty.

"Hi." She cooed, squeezing his hand with hers. "I want you to believe me, Chris. I have nothing to do with what Christian is doing now. And I have nothing to do with Tyson."

Chris nodded, staring past her shoulder to the cement wall. "Tyson never liked me very much."

Trish smiled, her heart soaring at his voice. Finally, he'd spoken. She had to keep him going. "No. He didn't. But Tyson doesn't like too many people."

He didn't answer her.

She sighed, slightly frustrated at his on/off behavior. She couldn't get anything from him.

Chris licked his lips when she bowed her head and his eyes fell on her. He felt his stomach drop, his palms growing sweaty and he cocked his head. Her hair was still slicked from that juice that Nidia tossed at her and her shirt died that wonderful pink. It was wet, clinging to her body and he couldn't help but think how beautiful and ... and sexy she looked.

Trish took a few more deep breaths, raking the annoying sugar-sticky fibers out of her eyes and she rolled her shoulders, rocking her head one way then the next to relax her muscles.

"Are you in pain?"

She froze, her eyes opening to look at him at those words. She winced, reaching back to rub one shoulder, squeezing the tense and balled muscle.

He eyed her curiously, concerned that she seemed to be in so much pain.

But Trish quickly shook her head, waving off that concern. "I'm fine. I just had my match so I'm still in that mode."

He swallowed hard again, stilling his racing heart and holding in the sting he felt at those words. And yet again, another experience at how people could only bring pain. Others could only bring pain.

"Look," Trish began, reaching out to brush her fingers along his brow, touching the reddened spot. That was where the ladder hit him. "I want you to win on Sunday." She confessed softly, caressing him affectionately. "I do. I mean it."

Chris simply ducked his head.

"Chris," she called, tilting his chin up to meet his eyes. "I don't know what I'm going to do yet. I may go out there with Christian. I may get involved. But it has nothing against you."

He trembled as she tickled her hand along his jaw, cupping his cheek in her warm palm. He nearly moaned as her thumb brushed his lips, her eyes never leaving his.

"If I help Christian, it's because I have a bigger plan. He's hurting you. Like he did tonight and I don't want to see that anymore. Don't worry. I'm really in your corner, Chris. My heart is in your corner. Believe me."

He licked his lips again, his heart racing and his skin growing clammy, but he just didn't know why.

"Believe me, Chris." She repeated, letting his name roll right off her tongue. "Please. At least let me know that you've heard me."

Chris offered a quick shaky nod.

She smiled, continue her caress and she brushed her thumb across his lips one last time before pulling back. "Ok. Just trust me, ok. Everything will be just fine."

Chris didn't let go of her hand when she stood, but instead gripped tighter as his frightened worried eyes gazed up at her.

She squeezed his hand in comfort and then turned to leave.

But still he didn't release her.

Trish faced him again as her arm stretched out and she knelt down at his side, close to his head. "What is it?"

Chris released a heavy breath, gathering his thoughts and controlling his words. He couldn't stop their quivering when he finally gained the courage to speak. "Help me."

Her smiled softened, emanating nothing but warmth and tenderness. "I will." She breathed, pulling his hand close to her chest, to her heart. "But you have to trust me. And remember, my actions out there are only for a better good ok?" She tilted her head, inching a little closer to make sure her eyes locked with his.

Chris blinked slowly, breathing heavily as he tried desperately to control himself. But something was just so overwhelming and he just didn't know what it was.

"Never doubt that I am behind you, one hundred percent." She clarified at his uneasiness. "I know our past doesn't say much and neither of our past actions help matters. But we're gonna start from scratch now. And we'll just have to blindly trust each other for this to work. Can ... can you do that?"

He licked his lips. Why did they keep drying out? "Can ... can you trust me?"

Affectionate and honest, her smile warmed even more.

Chris almost died at her loveliness. He remembered the last time she looked at him like that. And it was before Wrestlemania. It was during November, when everything was fine.

"Of course." She breathed, offering his hand one last squeeze before standing, her hand slipping from his.

He watched, oddly warm and comforted as she walked from his room and let the door swing gently shut behind.


	26. September 12, 2004 Unforgiven

Title: Endless Love

Author: Crimson Coin 

Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.

Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?

Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.

Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.

Archiving: Ask me first.

September 12, 2004 UNFORGIVEN

Chris Jericho winced as he stumbled down the arena corridor to his locker room. Pushing inside, he gasped as he was suddenly attacked.

A pair of delicate female hands reached out, wrapping around his body to cradle him best she could; she helped him walk. "Oh God, Honey."

He shivered at her voice and he turned his head slightly, looking down on the woman beside him. "I'm ok, Trish."

"That looked so painful out there." Trish said softly, reaching up to touch his face, her eyes searching his. "Are you ok? What hurts? Is there anything I can do?"

He smiled softly, his eyes drooped and tired as he presented her with his belt. "I did it."

The worry fell from her face and she smiled brilliantly. "That you did." She lifted onto her toes, wrapping her arms around his neck as she hugged him gently; she didn't want to hurt him. "You did it, Honey. You won. And you beat him."

Jericho nodded, wrapping his arm around her waist – the arm that held his belt – but his other hand still held the icepack to his throbbing shoulder. "I won." He whispered, awed that he was able to win. "And ... and Tyson didn't go out there for him." He licked his lips. "What ... what did you promise Tomko?"

Trish pushed away from him, staring up into his eyes. "It's not what you think."

He cocked his head. "Then ... then what?"

Her smile warmed at the look of him. Was he slightly jealous? "It wasn't sex or anything of the sort. I just promised him that next time ... dinner is my treat."

"You ... you mean that Tomko chose you over Christian for dinner?"

Trish nodded. "Not even a date. He covered me a couple weeks ago and I owe him a dinner. That's it."

"But ..."

"Trust me," Trish coaxed. "Tyson's loyal to me in the end."

Chris clenched his teeth, walking to the couch in his room then fell back, landing with a grunt. He watched as she immediately sat next to him and he dropped the strap of his belt, holding the ice more securely now. He winced again, shifting his weight.

"God, is it that bad?" She shifted off the couch, kneeling at its side as she lifted his legs. "Lay down."

He didn't fight her as he rested his legs on the couch, lying back with a sigh.

"Technically, Tomk ... Tyson works for Christian. I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow. But I had him tonight. And that kept him away from you."

He cocked his head, watching as she removed his boots, then place her hands over his knee. She remembered. She saw how his knee hit the ladder on multiple occasions. And she remembered.

Trish hissed. "Always this knee."

He exhaled a strenuous breath. She remembered that too. She remembered this was the knee he blew out protecting her.

She carefully eased the leg of his tights up, pushing to the knee, but his knee was already swollen and she couldn't get it further. "Hun, you're gonna have to get out of these tights."

"What?"

She shrugged. "There's nothing else I can do without your knee exposed and I can't get the tights over it." She tapped his thigh, standing. "So come on. Let's go."

Jericho's eyes widened as he nervously licked his lips. "What ... he ... here? Now?"

Trish nodded.

"But ... but I ..." he flushed, ducking his head. "I ... I don't wear anything ... under my tights and ..."

She laughed then shook her head at his nerves. "I've seen you before, Hun. It's not that big a deal."

He only bowed his head, unresponsive.

She ducked down, meeting his eyes with hers. "If I leave for a moment, will you be ok to get them off yourself, and then call me back inside?"

Chris gave a shaky nod and he watched nervously as she walked from the room. Realizing the breath he'd been holding, he pushed to his feet. Good Lord, did she really expect him to ... he couldn't.

Moaning slightly, he stumbled to his bag and hooked his fingers into his tights. Struggling fruitlessly, he finally managed to push them down to his ankles. Damn, his knee really was swollen, and throbbing at that.

Breathing deeply and harshly, he clenched his teeth as he wiggled, stepping out of his tights. Exhaling a few times, he gathered himself, doing best to act through the pain. Twisting slightly, he glanced over his shoulder.

He hissed. "Damn, that's nasty." He muttered, staring at the giant bruise on one side of his butt. Rolling his shoulder, he grabbed his elbow, moving the joint a few times to remove the stiffness.

Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a pair of gym shorts, his favorite pair of soccer shorts. Struggling even more than before, he managed to put one foot through the leg. Clenching his teeth, he whimpered as he put his full weight on his injured knee. Both feet finally on the floor, he pulled the shorts up.

"You done yet?" Trish asked, stepping back into the room carrying to bags filled with ice, just as his pants cleared his butt and he adjusted them nervously around his waist.

"I ... I could have still been naked."

Trish laughed. "But you're not and I was worried so ... oh my God, your knee."

Chris winced again as she raced over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist to help him back to the couch. "It's not that bad." He mustered. "It ... well ..." he flushed.

"What is it?" She helped him turn slightly then eased him to sit down.

He yelped, squirming in pain as he quickly shifted his weight, lying on his side, his knee forgotten.

Trish eyed him carefully.

Chris groaned, shifting further to lie on his stomach. His head on its side, he mumbled half against the cushion. "Ladder ... ass ... ow."

She didn't react at first. Her mind raced, her eyes shifting as she remembered back to his match. Knee. That was all she could think of. Maybe elbow. But his knee and then when he fell off that ladder and his knee twisted when his butt hit the ...

"Pain." He continued to mumble. "Oh God."

Trish burst out laughing.

His eyes grew sorrowed as he gazed pitifully up at her, though managed not to move an inch. "I'm glad you find pleasure in my pain!"

"Oh no, Honey." She cooed at his obvious hurt from her laughter. "I don't ... I don't want to see you hurt." She knelt at his side, right by his head so she could look on his face and she reached out, combing her fingers through his sweat tangled hair. "I didn't know what you were talking about at first."

"My ass." He clarified. "The ladder." He sniffed, a tear rising to his eyes. "Lots of pain."

She smiled. "I was going to tie these ice bags to your knee. But it looks like you may want it somewhere else."

"This is so embarrassing." He admitted as she moved down his body.

"Lift your leg first. I'm gonna ice your knee."

He obeyed, lifting his leg; it hurt. When she tapped his thigh, he slowly lowered his leg, his knee settling into the large bag of ice. It was large enough that the pressure of his leg separated the ice a little and the coldness enveloped his knee. He sighed, slightly relieved.

"Uhm ..." Trish sucked her lower lip into her mouth. "Chris?"

"What?"

She cocked her head. "Do ... do I put the ice ... inside your shorts?"

He froze at her suggestion.

"I'll put it on top. Uhm ... which ..." a smile tugged at her lips. "Which cheek?"

Chris groaned. "Right."

Trish chuckled as she placed the ice bag where he needed then sat back onto her heels, looking back in his face.

His eyes wearily met hers. "What?"

Her smile brightened, almost beamed. "I've never had a steel enema before. What was it like?"

He frowned, grumbling at her laughter. "That funny to you, huh."

"I'm sorry." She apologized, reaching out to place her palm on his back, noting the way he shivered at her touch.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, settling into the warmth of her touch, despite being freezing from all the ice and his lack of clothing in a cool room. "Ow."

"Aww, poor Baby." She cooed, rubbing his back in a most comforting way. "But think of it this way. You got that title. You went through hell and you proved to everyone ... that you're better than Christian."

He nodded. "Yeah. And ... and you helped keep the match fair. You ... you kept Tomko out of it."

She inched closer, cocking her head to look in his eyes. "I knew that if Tyson was out there ... you didn't stand a chance. Without Tyson, you would win."

Chris smiled. "I'm better than him." He felt his heart warm as Trish smiled back at him. "Yeah ... I ... I'm better than him."


	27. September 13, 2004

Title: Endless Love

Author: Crimson Coin 

Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.

Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?

Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.

Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.

Archiving: Ask me first.

September 13, 2004

"No, Randy." Trish begged, squeezing tightly at his hand. "Don't. Don't do it."

"They'll never know." Randy said with a sinister smile. "They'll never expect it. Ric told me that some naked chick covered in whipped cream is supposed to jump out of it and that's what he told Hunter. He won't expect me."

"But look at what they did last night."

Randy's eyes narrowed at the remembrance. "They stole my title. That title ... was mine. Everyone knows it. Hunter can't beat me. He needed help and a chair. And I had him down for the count."

"No, please." Trish licked her lips, hurriedly trying to think of a way to stop him. "I ... I was going to run out there last night, but I ... Chris stopped me."

"And it's a damn good thing he did." Randy responded. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to you out there."

"Ric wouldn't have attacked me and I don't think Dave would have either."

"Maybe ... maybe not." Randy inched closer to hers. "But I wouldn't put a damn thing past Hunter."

Trish ducked her head. "They're going to hurt you. And Chris ... he ... he could barely keep me back there I was so worried. And they're probably going to hurt you tonight."

"Don't you worry about me." He said gently. "You just worry about you."

"How can you say that?" she asked incredulously. "How can you expect me not to worry?"

"Worry about yourself." He answered. "And worry about Chris. I'll be fine."

She watched as he walked away and depressed, she turned her back, walking to her locker room. Pushing inside, she looked around.

Empty

Exhaling a deep sigh, she walked slowly to the sunken green couch and flopped back onto it. Her eyes closed, she raked a hand back through her hair, fisting the back in her frustration.

"Why so glum?"

Trish's eyes popped open, her guard raised. "Oh," she sighed her relief. "It's only you. You startled me."

Chris ducked his head, the obvious hurt of her words striking him. "Yeah it ... it's only me."

"That's not what I meant, Sweetie." Trish cooed, reaching out a hand. "Come. Sit with me."

He kept his head bowed as he approached, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch.

She grabbed his hand, despite his obvious desire to keep away. She pulled his hand into her lap, holding it preciously with hers, her thumbs stroking the backs. "You have Shawn on the Highlight Reel?"

Chris nodded, licking his lips in nerves. His palm was sweating and he desperately hoped she didn't notice. "Yeah." He swallowed hard, stilling his nerves. "I ... I saw you talking with Randy."

Trish nodded, keeping her eyes on the opposite wall. "He worries me so much some times. He's going to try to take on Evolution by himself. He's going to get hurt and I know it and there's nothing I can do."

"Wow," Chris said, a slight awe in his voice. "You sound like you really care about him."

"I do," she admitted. "He's been so wonderful to me. I couldn't ask for a better friend."

"Friend?"

Trish nodded, turning her head to look at him. Her eyes met his and she gazed at her with sorrow and maybe the slightest bit of hope. "Yeah. Friend."

His brow lifted. "Really? I ... I thought ..."

"Only ... friend." She clarified, the squeezed his hand in hers. "You realize that Christian won't leave you alone tonight. And from the looks of your bandages, you're in no condition to fight tonight."

"I won't turn down a fight." He said, intensely, his eyes on suddenly blazing with fire. "He bit off more than he can chew with me. And in the last few weeks and especially Sunday, let's just say that he said some things that I'll make him pay for ... dearly."

She cocked her head, curiously eyeing him. "He taunted you while you were in the ring, didn't he? Trying to play mind games."

"Yeah." Chris answered though it wasn't the truth. He had other reasons for being upset with Christian. "I'm gonna find a way to get him tonight. Just you watch."

"You ..." she chewed on her lower lip a moment to gather her thoughts. "You're more passionate now than I've ever seen you. So ... so angry."

"I've been angry before." He replied, turning his gaze from hers to stare at the opposite wall. "I've been a lot of things before. But ... not so much anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing."

"Chris?"

He quickly shook his head, pulling his hand from her grasp. "It's nothing. I ... I didn't mean anything by it."

Trish narrowed her eyes, suspicious at what he'd said. "You've been a lot of things? You mean felt? I noticed you've changed so much, Sweetie. Is that what you're talking about?"

Chris stood then, sniffling once before facing her with steely eyes. "I mean nothing by it. Are you planning on being with Christian tonight?"

Hurt by his sudden coolness, Trish quickly shook her head, her eyes never abandoning him. "No. Why ... why would I?"

He said nothing but gave a sharp nod then turned towards the door.

She jumped up, running after him. "Chris, wait." She grabbed his arm, before he could leave, her tiny hands wrapping around his upper arm. "Wait."

He stopped at her touch, his eyes closing. He had to hide it. He couldn't break. He couldn't tell her his heart. And yet, he couldn't stay away. His mind told him to run, not to fall under her spell again because it would only bring pain and heartache. But he couldn't listen to his mind. He still loved her.

"Chris."

He felt tears as she ran a hand up his arm then over his chest and neck then up to cup his opposite cheek. He couldn't resist, he couldn't fight when she turned his head, wanting to look at him.

"Honey," she cooed.

He nearly died at her voice. She'd been using endearments at every moment and his heart burst with sorrow. Why did she have to torture him with such names, with such endearments?

"Sweetie, come on. Look at me."

Why did she have to be so irresistible? He opened his eyes.

"Hi," she said with a warm smile then stroked her fingers across her brow. "I can tell you don't want to talk and even that you don't really trust me. And that's ok. But I want you to. I want you to, eventually, be able to talk to me. So now, just promise me you'll be careful."

He licked his lips.

Her eyes focused on those lips, his soft pink lips and her own lips parted with a sigh. "My heart couldn't take it, if you were hurt any more." She lifted up onto her toes, wrapping her arms around his neck as she hugged him tightly. "Promise me."

"I promise." He whispered, shuddering at the feel of her warm breath on his neck, on his ear. "But if Christian comes out there tonight. If he even does the slightest thing, I ain't making any promises then."

She smiled, tightening her arms. "Then you promise me that you'll show him the kind of man you are. Show him the Chris Jericho I know."

Chris nodded. He withheld his sigh at those words. The Chris Jericho she knew? Was she acting this way because of who she thought he was? Because Chris Jericho was a very different man now. He felt a sinking pain at the thought of how changed a man he really was and that he wasn't the same man that she once loved.


	28. September 20, 2004

Title: Endless Love

Author: Crimson Coin 

Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.

Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?

Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.

Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.

Archiving: Ask me first.

* * *

September 20, 2004

Trish Stratus strutted down the arena corridor, her title slung casually over her shoulder. She was proud of herself, proud of what she said to those diva wannabe's out on that stage. Neither of them deserved to be in this business. Neither of them knew what they were getting into and Trish wanted to make damn sure that they would regret every moment.

Sighing to herself, she continued slowly down the hall, her heels clicking, echoing through the corridor. She was, however, slightly disappointed with herself. She was usually on fire, on the ball with insults and comments. And tonight, she was horrible.

She shook her head, silently scolding herself. She'd come up with brilliant comments. To JR, Lita, Christian and even to Jericho. And yet out there with the easiest of all targets, she couldn't perform.

But she had her excuses. She was entirely too distracted. Picking up her pace, she quickened her step, nearly rushing down the hallway in her attempt to reach the locker room as quickly and swiftly as possible.

Pushing through the locker room door, she tossed her belt to the floor, discarding it for the sight before her. "Oh, Chris."

Chris Jericho glanced up with half lidded eyes at her sigh and he felt the swelling throb in his chin worsen when he tried to speak. So he didn't.

"Chris, Honey." Trish cooed, walking into the room and sitting down on the couch's edge, reaching out to him with a single hand to brush her fingers across his brow. She slowly shook her head, her eyes searching his. "How are you?"

"Ok," he managed to answer, softly. "I've been better."

She sighed. "Tyson didn't really go easy with that boot."

He offered a small chuckle. "He kicked me in the face. There's no easy way to do that."

"I'm so sorry." She gently apologized. "I just wish I could have more control over Tyson. But with Christian out for blood and paying him on the side, there's nothing I can do." She shrugged. "My hands are tied. How's your ice? Do you need more?"

Chris watched her stand, walking across the room to his duffle bag and pulled out his street clothes. His eyes scanned her perfect body, from her voluptuously curved torso then down those smooth tanned legs. "You look pretty tonight." He sighed then his eyes widened as he caught himself too late. Had he spoken that out loud?

A small smile tugged at Trish's lips as she glanced back over her shoulder. "Thank you, Chris."

He breathed a sigh of slight relief when she returned her attention to his bag, continuing to dig. He swallowed hard, willing his heart to slow, his breathing to regulate. He had to calm down. He just had to. Why was he getting so worked up anyway?

Trish tossed his clothes on the bench then turned back to him, a large white towel in her hands. "You should probably get cleaned up. A shower might relax you." She walked to him, squatting down to his level so she could look more clearly into his eyes. "Does that sound good?"

His heart stung at her almost maternal tone. She was always trying to take care of him and though he loved that idea, he didn't like the way she was going about it. "I don't wanna shower." He protested, holding the ice more firmly against his jaw.

"Are you sure you're feeling well?"

"I feel like shit." He honestly answered. "I just ..." he averted his eyes, staring at the ceiling. "I want to go home. Or back to the hotel, at least."

Trish's gaze softened and she reached out, placing her hand on his chest. "Sweetie, maybe you should go home."

But he shook his head.

"Why not?" She coaxed, rubbing her hand in a slow circular motion on his sweat sticky chest. "If you're not feeling well, you should go right home."

"Because I can't get up."

She furrowed her brow.

"I tried before you came in here." He clarified. "I tried to go shower and I nearly fell over. The ... Let's just say that the Sweet Chin Music followed by a series of punches and a stiff kick – all to the head – is not the best for my balance."

She leaned closer to him, bringing her hand from his chest up to his face, cupping his cheek. "Do you have a concussion, Sweetie?"

He closed his eyes.

She moved closer still. "Hey. Open your eyes."

Chris swallowed hard. She was so close. She was so close he could feel her breath, her warmth. Her touch on his face made him shiver and he had to resist every urge to just cave. He wanted to cry.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

Oh no. He must be tearing. His face must have given some sign of distress. She hurt him now more than she ever did. All he could feel with her was pain. And yet the masochist he is, he couldn't turn her away. He sucked up all that pain, all the denial, all the guilt just to be in her presence. And it was slowly killing him.

"Chris?"

He sniffed, squeezing his eyes closed a moment before gathering himself, looking onto her face. "I'm just really exhausted."

Concern remained in her eyes as her face was drawn with worry. "You really don't look so great." She still cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb along his lips then chin. "Have you been sleeping this week?"

"Not really." He answered, truthfully. "I've been ... distracted."

"Distracted?" She traced her hand down over his neck, rubbing his chest in comfort again, trying desperately to coax more information from him. "How?"

"It's nothing." He quickly replied with a slight shake of the head. "I just need a little time to gather myself, then I'll be fine."

"Tell me, Sweetie." Trish cooed, running her hand up his chest then down his arm, entwining their fingers. "I want to know so I can help. Anything I can do to help you, I will."

But Chris only shook his head. "There's nothing you can really do." He didn't deserve her attention, her caring. He was an asshole, a bastard. Edge was right. He'd hurt her on so many occasions that she didn't even have to give him the time of day. Yet here she was, stroking him, caressing him and being ... friendly ... caring.

Trish sighed, squeezing his hand a bit tighter. "Honey, I do care. I never stopped ... caring." She leaned a little closer to him, looking further into his eyes. "I want you to know that. And I want to help you. Everyway I could."

He licked his lips, his eyes widening as her head began to lower. Good Lord, was she doing what he thought she was doing? He watched, wide-eyed as her eyes fluttered closed and she inched closer and closer still.

"Where is she?"

Trish jumped back, her heart in her throat as she turned to the door. Shocked, surprised, she tilted her head, but still did not release Jericho's hand. "Jeff?"

Jeff Hardy charged into the locker room, falling to his knees in front of Trish. "Where is she?"

Trish still stared in shock, unresponsive to not only the unexpected interruption, but who sat before her.

"Lita. Where ... Where is she?" he forced out, his voice shaking with his restrained tears.

"I ... I don't know, Jeff."

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Jeff snapped, his eyes flashing with anger and sorrow. "How ... how can you not know? Don't you care? Don't you even remotely care about Lita? Or are you too wrapped up in your ..." he gestured at her and Chris. "At this. This! Whatever it is you two are trying to do again."

Trish gasped and Chris couldn't keep the flush from his face.

"You two aren't fooling anyone." Jeff quickly said. "You're still madly in love so just by-pass all this red tape and get on with it already. And I can't believe you ... you're dancing around like this when Lita ... she ... she ..."

"Oh, Jeff." Trish sighed, reaching out and wrapping her arms around the Hardy's neck, pulling him into her.

Tears burst from Jeff's eyes at the touch and he buried his face in her abdomen, clutching desperately at her.

"Shhhh," Trish hushed, running her fingers through his hair, combing it down as she held him, rocking him slowly. "Shhh, honey."

Jeff sniffled, his breath erratic. "My ... my baby." He squeezed his eyes tightly together, burying further into her as he tightened his arms. "My baby's dead."

Chris's eyes widened at those words, total shock falling onto his face.

Trish's eyes quickly met Jericho's and she silently pleaded for him not to say a word.

Jeff winced, his shoulder's shaking with sobs. "Oh God, Lita and ... and Oh God, I never should have left her. No matter what I ... I should have been with her and I ..."

"Shh, Jeff." Trish soothed, rubbing her hands along his shoulders. "Shh, it's not your fault. There's nothing that could have been done. The doctor's did everything they could and at least ... at least Lita's ok. That's what matters. Lita is ok."

But Jeff viciously shook his head. "How can you say that? Everything's not ok. My child is ... is dead. My love is ... is in the hospital ... did ... did you see her? The look on her face. And ... and she's married to Kane ... and ... and ..."

Trish released him when he pushed back and worry filled her at the new look. "Jeff?"

His eyes flashed dangerously and he stood quickly, his body tensing, his fists clenched. "Snitzgy." He growled, then without a second thought, charged from the room.

"Jeff!" Trish called, flying to her feet.

"No!" Chris said, reaching out and grabbing her hand. He winced as the icepack dropped from his hand and he leaned off the couch. "No."

She turned, her eyes full with fear as she looked down on him. "I have to stop him."

But Chris shook his head, his eyes pleading for her. "Please, don't. You can't."

"Why?" Trish asked, pulling on her hand, but he wouldn't let her go. "He's going to get hurt. And ... and there's going to be trouble."

Again, Chris shook his head. "No, he won't." He tugged on her hand and Trish fell back onto the couch, sitting at his side.

"Why?" she asked, her body trembling with her worry. "Why, how do you know? Jeff is a menace when he's like this. I know. I've seen him take it to a lot of people. And that ..."

Chris reached up, pressing a finger to her lips and his brow rose as he spoke softly. "Because Snitzgy left right after his interview. I saw him speeding off."

Trish smiled, relaxing and she reached up, taking his hand from her lips and holding it in her lap. "I'm still worried about Jeff. And about you." She squeezed his hand then sighed, ducking her head. "And about Lita."

"You really still care about her, don't you."

Trish nodded.

Chris swallowed hard. "Help me up."

She watched him struggle to a sitting position, his eyes swimming a moment before he maintained his balance. "Wait." She reached out, steadying him. "Why? I thought you were ..."

"That doesn't matter." He said, quickly. "I'm going to take you to see Lita."

"What?!"

He pushed to his feet, staggering slightly then with his legs spread, found his balance. "You heard me. You have to patch things up with Lita. She could really use you ... and from that look you just had ... you want her friendship again too."

"Chris," she interrupted, reaching out to grab his arm. "I ... I really don't think that's such a great idea."

"But ..."

She placed her hand over his lips, silencing him. "Of all the places to be right now, going to Lita is not one of them. She needs time to heal, physically."

"But ..."

Trish shook her head. "No. I can't. And with Kane there ..."

"He wouldn't touch you." Chris swore, intensely. "I'd kill him first."

Her eyes met his and she felt a surge of love at that very moment, but she quickly shook it off. "I promise that when Lita comes back, I'll talk to her. Ok?"

Chris smiled. "Ok."

She almost exploded. Oh how she missed his smile. She never wanted to see it disappear. She wanted it to stay and she wanted to be the woman to keep it there.


	29. September 29, 2004

Title: Endless Love

Author: Crimson Coin 

Rating: PG 15 and higher at some points. Warning: Language.

Summery: The sequel to "Unstoppable". Will Chris Jericho and Trish Stratus's love truly be able to last?

Disclaimer: I do not own the WWE or any of the affiliated wrestlers.

Timeline: From March 22, 2004 and all said dates.

Archiving: Ask me first.

* * *

September 27, 2004

Randy Orton nodded, his eyes focused intensely on the woman at his side. "I'm sure about this. I really think I got to Ric tonight. I think he might believe me."

Trish sighed with a shake of the head. "This doesn't feel right and it's only gonna end in disaster."

"Don't you worry about me." Randy said, resting a gentle arm on her shoulder. "I'm gonna be fine. Now go on, don't you worry."

She was about to speak, but Randy had turned his back and walked away. Slightly defeated, Trish continued down the corridor, her belt draped casually over her shoulder.

"Ah, Trish Stratus."

She stopped at the voice, her head turning slightly to gaze at the man who spoke, Eric Bischoff.

Eric smiled his typical sleazy smile. "Trish, let me tell you. That was one _phenomenal_ initiation you had out there."

"Yeah, thanks, Eric." Trish answered, unenthused. "Look, I've got to run."

"Not a problem." Eric drawled. "Just letting you know that you're doing a fantastic job."

Trish didn't even acknowledge him with a response, but quickened her pace down the corridor. Turning a corner, she slipped into the first door. Luckily, it was the door she wanted anyway.

"Hey."

"Hey," she sighed, walking further into the room then tossed her belt on one of the chairs, the same chair his belt was on. The belts clinked together, then rest quietly in their place. She raked a hand through her hair, dragging her feet to the sofa then fell back onto it, releasing a tired breath.

"What's wrong?"

She only shook her head, her eyes on the ceiling. "Randy's gonna kill himself." She closed her eyes as she felt the cushion sink at her side and she knew he was there. She could feel his warmth, that sweet wonderful warmth that she'd missed so.

"Do you want me to go out there and help him?"

Trish's eyes popped open as she looked quickly to the side, her brown eyes meeting his ice blue. "You ... you'd do that?"

Chris Jericho shrugged, nonchalantly. "Sure if ... if you want me to."

She cocked her head, her eyes unwavering from his. "You ... you would, wouldn't you."

He remained serious, his voice low and deep. "I broke a man's neck for you. Helping Randy is nothing compared to that."

Her eyes widened. "You what?"

Chris gave a slow nod. "Why do you think Drew isn't here anymore?"

Trish didn't respond, her eyes swimming with this overwhelming situation.

He sighed, leaning back into the couch. "That day, when I saw him with his hands on you. I guess I was rougher with him than I thought. But he deserved it and he's fucking lucky I didn't kill him. Because after you walked away, I was damn near close to stalking back to him to finish the job."

"Chris?"

"What?" he answered, his voice rising a little in anger. "I'm not sorry I did it. I don't regret it and if I had the chance to do it again, I'd do it in an instant. But not hold back this time."

"Oh Chris," she breathed, a sorrow filling her eyes at his admission. "You ... you don't need to do things like that. You came to my rescue and even ... even the thought of why you would confuses the hell outta me."

"Is it really not that obvious?" Jericho bowed his head. "I heard your cry." He said softly. "It nearly killed me. I had to run. And then I get there and I see him and I ... I lost control."

Trish reached out, grabbing his hand in hers and pulling it into her lap. She gently shook his hand, jostling him out of his revere and she met his eyes. "Thank you. For that day. For helping me. I ... I don't know what would have happened..."

"I do." Chris said intensely. "And I don't want to think about it. Because then Drew would be dead. And I'd be in prison." He sighed. "Do you want me to help Randy?" He stood then, walking to the door and he pulled the T-shirt off his head as he walked out.

"Chris." She called, racing after him, her eyes filled with worry. "No, Chris, wait." She caught up to him at the curtain and grabbed his hand before he stepped through, pulling him back. "Chris, no."

He turned to her, his eyes filled with intensity yet still a sorrow. "I can see it in your eyes. How worried you are about him. And Evolution is standing out there over his body. So I'm going to go out there, before they continue to beat him down."

"But Chris," Trish cried, softly, not releasing his hand. "But there're three of them out there and ... and Randy's ... he ... he looks unconscious. You ... you can't take them all."

"No," He answered and then his crystal eyes mirrored excruciating sadness. "But I can keep them from hurting the man you love."

Shocked, Trish's grip loosened and Chris charged out from behind the curtain and down the ramp. "Oh God," she panicked, peeking out and down the ramp. The crowd was already dispersing, the cameras turned off. And yet the moment Jericho burst down the ramp, they all stopped. The crowd roared as Jericho slid into the ring and dove at Hunter.

Trish shook her head, glancing behind her quickly, but no one was around. "Damn it!" she swore then charged out and ran down the ramp. She heard the crowd boo, heard their jeers and sneers. But she didn't care. She didn't know what she could do, but it had to be better than nothing.

Her heart raced in her throat as Jericho leapt from Hunter then tackled Batista to the ground. Quickly bouncing up, he nailed Flair with a clothesline then turned his attention to Hunter. Her eyes widened when Chris was attacked from behind, Batista smashing a hard forearm on Jericho's back.

She swallowed hard, trying desperately to rid the lump and she stopped at ringside, peeking up at them. Her eyes searched, frantically. Randy was still unconscious and Batista and Hunter continued punching and slamming their arms against Chris's back and neck. "Ric!" she cried.

Flair turned suddenly, his eyes meeting the woman's and Trish offered a frightened glance. Flair's gaze was one of regret, and one of pleading. He did nothing though. But he would not attack.

Trish watched, scared and flustered as Batista backed away from Jericho and towards the ropes, right in front of her. Desperate to do something, through the crowd's boos, she reached into the ring, wrapping her arms around Batista's leg.

Dave snarled, turning and looking down at the woman that held him. Trish gazed up at him, her eyes pleading, begging for him not to do anything. He hesitated, his eyes locking on the woman's eyes and his features softened for a moment before a sadistic smile spread across his face.

Dave kicked his leg, his foot hitting Trish in the chest and the crowd's boos were deafening as Trish tumbled back, curling into herself as she coughed. Her arms clutched at her breasts and she winced, squeezing her eyes shut to keep from tearing.

Exhaling a few long breaths, Trish forced her eyes open and looked into the ring. She heard the crowd roar and hoped, prayed that someone else was coming to the ring. Her heart clenched and she pushed up, standing on shaky legs. "No!"

Hunter hurled Chris into the ropes and dazed, Chris bounced back. Dave let out a loud roar, his arm raised as he hit Chris in the head with that devastating clothesline. Chris limply hit the mat, his eyes closed as he laid a crumpled mess.

Trish jostled when two bodies raced past her and slid into the ring. The crowd cheered and roared as Chris Benoit and William Regal attacked Evolution, Regal already wearing his brass knuckles.

Uncaring of her own condition, Trish clenched her teeth and slid into the ring as Evolution made a quick exit. She quickly stood, glancing from one fallen body to the next. Randy ... Chris ...

The crowd continued to cheer as Benoit and Regal stood near the ropes, pointing and taunting the members of Evolution. Randy stirred.

Trish's eyes widened and she quickly dropped at Randy's side. She reached out, placing her hands on his chest then up his neck, one eventually cupping his face. "Randy? Randy?"

Randy Orton moaned, his eyes glazed but slowly focusing. "Mmmm," he shifted his weight, his eyes desperately searching for the voice. "Trish," he licked his lips then raised a hand to his head.

Trish's eyes searched his, worry consuming her. "Are you ok? Are ... are you ok?"

"Yeah," Randy said quickly, his head tilting to the side as he took in the sight. Evolution on the ramp, Chris stirring on the other side of the ring and Benoit by the other Canadian's side as Regal shouted over the ropes. "Chris." He said softly. "Go to him."

Trish rested her hand on his chest, leaning slightly on him for balance as she looked over her shoulder and she met Chris's eyes. A strange sense of sadness filled her at those eyes. Those beautiful crystalline eyes that spoke everything, that hid nothing. The sorrow, the rejection, the pain. Why did he look at her like that?

"Go on."

Trish looked down at Randy at the voice.

Randy smiled, sweetly, his hand resting on hers for a moment. "Trust me. Go to him."

She wasted no more time. Quickly she jumped to her feet and ran to Jericho's side, falling onto her knees as she reached out. "Chris." She breathed his name, running her fingers through his matted hair. "Are you ok?" She leaned down, looking straight into his dilated eyes.

Chris licked his lips, his head spinning. "You ... you can ... go to Randy. He ... he probably wants you ... by his side."

Trish shook her head, grateful that Benoit had left to check on Randy and she leaned down a little further, her eyes searching his even more intensely. "Look at me. Do you have a concussion?"

"I ..." he closed his eyes. "I don't know."

"Here," she coaxed. "Stand for me." She reached out, her hands on his chest, rubbing slowly to motivate him. "Come on."

Chris moaned when she pulled on him lightly and he regretfully obeyed, letting her pull him into a sitting position. His head spun and he reached up, cupping his head for a moment.

"Easy," she cooed, brushing her fingers through his hair and the crowd was a mix of cheers and boos. She didn't care though. She didn't care what anyone thought.

"I'm ok." He said, shrugging away her hands. "Randy ... you can ..."

But Trish didn't give up. She placed one hand on his shoulder, the other reaching out to cup his cheek.

Jericho gasped, his eyes flying open as she tilted his head towards her and he locked eyes with hers. He nearly trembled, almost collapsed at the look in her eyes. How beautifully and tenderly, yet intensely she looked at him.

She stroked her thumb along his cheek and the crowd boos filled the arena. They thought she was going to hurt him. How could they EVER think that? She felt her heart pull at the realization that the crowd was right in their reason for doubting her.

Chris swallowed hard, unable to look away and he sucked his lip into his mouth.

Trish brushed her thumb back along his cheek then down, coaxing at his lips, just brushing them gently and her heart melted when his lips parted with a sigh. "I didn't come out here for Randy. I came out ... for you."

Chris felt his heart swell, his body surging with the sudden emotion that enveloped him. The wondrous affection he saw in her eyes, felt in her touch.

She smiled, beautifully and tenderly.

He almost collapsed. She hadn't smiled at him like that in such a long time. The last time he remembered that smile, they were in Boston. And they were in that alley. It was the night of their first kiss.

Trish exhaled a sigh, loving the way he shivered as her breath caressed his face. "It's you I'm here for."

Chris could hear the fans yelling and screaming, some voices carrying through for him to push her away. But he couldn't. He just couldn't push her away. On the contrary, he wanted to pull her into his arms. He wanted to embrace her. He wanted to hold her and kiss her and make love to her all that very moment, in front of the world.

He quickly closed his eyes. No, he couldn't do that. Clenching his teeth, Chris staggered to his feet, shuddering as her hands touched his bare chest, holding him slightly steady as he lost his balance, tripping over his feet to the ropes.

"Whoa," She giggled, unable to keep from chuckling as he stumbled gracelessly. "Easy there." She cooed, rubbing a hand up his arm as he leaned back against the ropes, letting them keep him upright.

Chris nodded, doing his best to control his heart and his body and his desire to kiss her breathless. But he couldn't do that. She didn't want to kiss him. She only ... she was only concerned. She just didn't want to see him hurt. That's it.

His eyes suddenly grew sad as she gave him a pat on the chest, then walked over to Randy, helping Benoit get the younger man to stand. He couldn't help the jealousy that coursed through his body at the site of her touching the other man. How she cupped his cheek to look in his eyes then smiled brilliantly at him. That jealousy raced through his heart, through his mind until the point where he was nauseous.

Defeated, he closed his eyes, releasing a sigh to try to breathe normally again. Then he jumped, his eyes flying open.

Trish was at his side again, her hands on him and that gorgeous smile on her face. Glancing around the ring, he noticed Randy was already out, Benoit helping him walk and Regal walking close by. It was only he and Trish in the ring.

He could hear the crowd reactions, hear their boos and their chants and some even cheering. The ones that cheered, Chris knew they could see. They could see that her eyes didn't lie. They could see this wasn't the same Trish Stratus that stripped Christy Hemme to her underwear. This wasn't the same Trish Stratus that slapped him at Wrestlemania. This was the Trish Stratus they all loved. The Trish Stratus he loved. The Trish Stratus who loved him.

Chris felt a smile pulling at his lips as he gazed down into her eyes and all of a sudden, he was back in time. Back when things were fine between them. When they had matches together and after winning, she would embrace him, hug him and nuzzle him nose to nose. How much he missed that. How much he missed her.

"Come on, Sweetie." She said, softly, uncaring of the mixed crowd reaction. They didn't matter. What mattered was that he could read her eyes, read her heart. Nobody else mattered. She reached up, brushing her fingers along his cheek for a moment. "Let's get out of here."

Chris offered a sweeter smile as he leaned on her for support and they slowly walked to the ropes then slid out. And walking up the ramp, her by his side, Chris knew she really cared about him. She still cared about him. And he knew that he still loved her. He was still madly in love with her. And maybe, one day, when he found the courage, he would tell her.

One day.

One day when he could be the man that she once loved. When he could be a man. When he could win her love again.

Chris paused once at the top of the ramp, glancing to his side. She was confused at why they stopped at first and she looked up at him, hopefully onto his handsome face.

His heart melted. Yes, he would win her love again. And one day, he would finally hold her, love her the way she deserved. One day he would prove that his love was endless. One day ...

One day

Fin

(Yes this is the end of Endless Love. BUT ... I know I have a lot of loose ends that I didn't tie together so here's the deal. I can continue this story with a sequel to the sequel about their budding relationship and how they work through it. Chris's healing, Trish's past, etc. And I can finish up the Jeff/Lita and the Edge/Jericho conflicts along with the Christian fiasco. But this all depends on my readers. If you want me to write more in another story. If so, I will post it here. Review me and let me know. If not, if there's not enough interest. Well, this is the end. Thanks for reading.)


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